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The HERO 


of the 

WEST 


A Romance of the Vallei^y the Prairie 
and the Mountain 

By 

FORREST G. BYLOFF 


Copyright 1919 

Hassler-DeAtley Pub. Co. 

BOYERS, PA. 


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©C1A567608 


APR- 


1920 





To Jftother 

WHOSE KINDLY COUNSEL HAS, SO 
FAITHFULLY AND WELL, GUIDED AND 
ENRICHED ME THROUGH MY YOUTH- 
FUL YEARS, I RESPECTFULLY DEDI- 
CATE THIS BOOK IN APPRECIATION. 


They climbed the rock-built breasts of earth, 
The Titan- fronted, blowy steeps 
That cradled Time. Where freedom keeps 
Her flag of bright, blown stars unfurled. 

They climbed and climbed. They saw the birth 
Of sudden dawn upon the world; 

Again they gazed; they saw the face 
Of God, and named it boundless space. 

—‘‘The Ship In The Desert.’’ 

Joaquin Miller. 


PREFACE. 


“The Hero of The West” is a complete story in 
itself. In penning this tale I bore it in mind to ac- 
quaint my readers with the ins and outs of Western 
life, showing what man is called upon to do, and 
what troubles men of ill reputation are still in the 
habit of making. The boundless field is one about 
which very little is written, although weighty in in- 
terest, and one which is worthy the most sincere at- 
tention of all who possess the proper development 
of our country at heart. 

To many, I presume, certain scenes in this book 
seem exceedingly exagerated, but I truthfully say 
that such is far from being the case. I have tried to 
picture the mountain, the valley, and the desert just 
as nearly exact as I understand. Men to whom this 
land has been a home, are no longer stirred by the 
power of friendship, chivalry or love — the deep- 
seated, unmovable emotions of Western life. Heat, 
lonliness, toil, fear, ferocity, pain, thurst, hunger — 
he knows them all; yes, he has felt the white sun 
and its lurid fire ; the insupportable silence, the emp- 
ty ride, the long climb, the plod in hot sand, the 
search, search, the eager search for that glittering 
pool of clear cool water. 

No one who makes a trip to the West should fail 
to visit this section of Gc^’s domain, around and 
about which place this story comes to pass. As a 
scenic wonder its many attractions cannot be exag- 


gerated. No lover of nature, no artist, no novelist 
ever visited this soul-inspiring spot and saw its 
wonders without admitting that they are far more 
picturesque than his or her most extravagant no- 
tions had ever pictured them. 

F. G. BYLOFF. 
Kewanee, Illinois,, October 1917. 

jjs 5|e 4 : * * 

THE HERO OF THE 
WEST 


A Romance of the Valley, the Prairie 
and the Mountain 

By 

FORREST G. BYLOFF 


Copyright 1919 


Hassler-DeAtley Pub. Co. 

BOYERS. PA. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter Page No. 

I. Something /Kboiit the Homestead 1 

IF. The Unexpected Letter 9 

FIT. A Ride For The Hills 15 

IV. The Wayside Fnn 22 

V. 'riie Wreck 28 

VT. The Confession 36 

\HI. On An Important Mission 42 

VIII. The Boys Find Trouble 47 

IX. The Escape From Prison 52 

X. The Robbery at “Kiwatchee Canyon'’ ... 59 

XI. The Stranger’s Indentification 70 

XII. Good-Bye to “The Sage-Brush State”.. 76 

XIII. The Arrival of the Boys 85 


^^riic Hero Of The PVest/^ 


CHAPTER I. 

Something About the Homestead. 

The West is full of romance! It is a portion of 
God’s Great Domain, inhabited by various classes 
of the human race. Each individual comes to seek 
his fortune in one way or the other; — The cowboy 
seeks his cattle; the miner his gold; while the half- 
naked Indian commingles with his brethren about 
the saloon door. These characteres are most varied 
in manner; some are honest laboring men from 
the plain, the gulch or the mountain, while others, 
with practically the same facial features, chance 
to be 'Stage Robbers,’ gamblers and fakers of 
many types. The traveler or adventurer to whom 
the thrill of this strange land appeals, had best en- 
ter the territory with full knowledge of the man 
or men with whom he intends to deal, for, remem- 
ber, they have gone to meet fortune; not defeat! 

The sun had peeped over the horizon with all its 
splendor, making that portion of the continent ex- 
ceedingly hot that day. The ball of radient fire was 
now fairly at the zenith, and though there were 
many places of cool shelter, there were none that 
suited Nathan Henderson’s fancy any better than 
the little log cabin in the dell. 


^^The Hero Of The Wes^ 


He was a boy of nineteen, tall and strong for his 
years, possessed with shiny black hair and a pair 
of blue eyes. The firmness of mind and statliness 
of figure had won him a name not to be ashamed of. 

“It seems a long way,” had been his mother’s ob- 
jection, “and you are all I have now, Nathan, so 
do be careful.” 

“Never fear, mother, I shall be very cautious.” 

Mrs. Henderson had just received a telegram 
from her sister in Rockville, Maryland, stating that 
vhe latter was critically ill and that all relatives 
were to be summoned immediately to her bedside. 
It was while Nathan was planning his journey that 
his mother left for Maryland on an extended visit. 

“I shall be apt to remain there for some time, 
Nathan, so if you will, I prefer you taking the deeds 
along with you, as my time will be very much taken 
up, and furthermore, I fear I shall not be able to 
give them due consideration;” then she paused. 
“And perhaps, you may see fit to use them to great 
advantage.” 

The conversation was here concluded. 

One bright morning a few days later, Raymond 
Boswell, a true friend of young Henderson, and 
who had agreed to accompany the latter on the 
western trip, came running up the front steps of 
the Henderson home. He was also a pleasant- 
faced, stalwart youth, with the fine formed figure 
of a trained athlete, owning a square chin and well 
designed nose — and in all, he was the proud posses- 
sor of an elegant appearance. Nathan met Ray- 


*‘Thn Hero Of The West” 3 


mond on the porch and at once they began talking 
over plans for their long journey. 

“Now, then, ’ broke in Nat, as we will call him. 
“The next thing to do is to supply ourselves with 
outfits.’' And so they did, for within a week they 
were off. 

The journey was reported a successful one, with 
nothing of any importance occurring. 

They arrived at Kelso, Idaho, near the midnight 
hour, and after alighting, they found themselves 
on the tiny wooden platform of the dark railway 
station. The night was rather chilly and as the 
boys turned about, searching for someone from 
whom reliable information could be had, the sharp 
air nipped their lungs. To the north, after the long 
train had pulled out, one could behold the few 
shadowy buildings looming mysteriously in the 
night, and beyond this a distance lurking wood 
blurred the star-sprinkled heavens. 

Directly across the tracks from the station, a lone 
shanty was pricked from the dark by a solitary 
lamp in the lower-story apartment. 

“That must be the boarding house, Ray,’ broke 
out Nat, suddenly. 

They concluded to discover the business of the 
house; whether it was a saloon, or such a place as 
would afford them a night’s lodging. 

They were met at the steps by the proprietor. He 
was a short, fleshy man, dressed rather sabbily, yet 
his expressions were none the worse for that. His 
little round face was lit by a pair of glowing eyes. 


J 


nitc Hero Of The IVesH 


and though somewhat wrinkled it never seemed to 
grow tiresome to the spectator. 

He led them in, and after a brief conversation, 
they were taken to their room on the second door. 

The next morning, after having visited the Gov- 
ernm.ent’s Land Office and fded a claim, they set out 
to make a more thorough investigation of the vi- 
cinity. For the first time, the boys beheld the real 
town of Kelso in daylight. AVhat a place ! There 
were but few houses, and those were of the cheap- 
est sort. The business section consisted of one 
building under which scores of various articles could 
be purchased. 

* 

Some months later we find them comfortably lo- 
cated in the woods, some two miles from the town, 
fi'he hut m which they lived had at one time been 
occupied, so the boys learned, by a rich hermit. 
This man had left the vicinity almost as mysterious- 
ly as he had entered it, for to this day no one can 
intelligently account for his sudden disappearance. 
Thus the cabin had been left undisturbed, and the 
furniture as well. Although the exterior of the hut 
was rather shabby at the time of the boys arrival, 
the interior possessed a very tidy appearance. It is 
true, however, that the articles were dusty, but as 
for order everything was just as the old man had 
left it. On the walls hung skins of various kinds, 
an old musket or hunting knife hanging half con- 
cealed within the folds. The old fire-place which 


^‘Thc Hern Of The West” 


5 


stood in the north and west corner formed part of 
the household necessity, having furnished warmth 
for nearly fifteen long winters. Other essential 
things went to make up the comfort of the cabin. 

The outside, though disorderly, had some fea- 
tures worth mentioning. The hut lay in a deep 
valley, enclosed by high hills. A tiny pond, which 
glinted brightly in the dazzling sunshine, filled a 
low strip of land, — around which grew part of the 
dense timberland — trees and underbrush. To the 
west were tall mountains, hidden in a bluish mist; 
to the south were vast forests and plains ; and in the 
northern direction stood the continuation of that 
western range, serving as an elegant protector 
against the biting gales which passed in those parts 
during the stiff winter months. The sun was al- 
ways seen as it rose above the very horizon for a 
level bit of prairie stretched far in that direction. 

In a fairly large clearing stood tiie homestead, 
with an old-fashioned bucket-well at its rear. Ivy 
and other vines clung to the outer walls, giving it 
an unusual grand appearance, not to be seen else- 
where m that vicinity. 

The boys had now lived in this vale nearly four 
months, and gradually they were becoming accus- 
tomed to the climate. Although it was dreadfully 
hot at times, an occasional rain would cool the air 
to a great extent, consequently this would renew 
their vigor, and again they would fight the coming 
heat. 


6 


^^Thc Hero Of The JVesH 


It was a spell of this very kind through which 
they were now passing. They had been compelled 
to seek shelter within the walls of the cabin in 
order to avoid the blistering rays of the noontide 
sun. And it was as Ray was sitting in an old- 
fashioned arm chair with his inevitable pipe be- 
tween his teeth, that he chanced a glance in the di- 
rection of the mountains. He threw back his head 
to listen. From a great distance came the hoarse 
rumble of thunder, echoing and re-echoing. Then 
to the westward, crawling over Mount Artie, ap- 
proached a dense mass of black clouds, that grew 
more ominous each instant. 

“I’m afraid w^e’re in for a storm, Nat,” said the 
boy, “and a bitter one, too.” 

He was right — already the wind was gradually 
rising with a dull, humming sound, and the trees 
swaying gently. The sky, too, seemed rapidly 
darkening, concealing the orange-glowing sun. Soon 
rain was heard as it came pattering down on the 
roof of the cabin. Harder and harder it fell until 
at length it came in broad sheets; so compacted, 
indeed, that one could not see twenty feet ahead. 

During this time the wind had increased consid- 
erably, its velocity being simply terrific. Both Nat and 
Ray had witnessed many a storm, but none to com- 
pare to the one which now swept the valley. 

This certainly is fierce!” gasped Nat, after sev- 
eral minutes had passed. 

“It’s a regular hurricane!” was the return. 


^^The Hero Of The West” 


7 


A peculiar humming now filled the air, followed 
by the crashing of some great tree. The thunder 
rolled, the lightning flashed and then came another 
crash. The beys were momentarily dazed and stood 
mere like petrified statues. 

“This is awful!” groaned Ray when he came to 
lus right senses; but Nat heard him not, nor were 
his remarks audible. The hissing wind had found 
an opening in the cabin and through this it was 
whistling, drowning all other disturbances. 

Crack! Boom; down went another tree. 

Glancing about him, Ray saw his partner rushing 
about the place histerically. 

“Close that door, man! or well be blown sky- 
high!” yelled Nat to Ray. 

In a few moments the door was closed, and 
though the wind did find some entrance through 
the cracks in the wall, the openings did not, how- 
ever. afford quite as much as had the door. Soon 
the first fury of the storm was spent; but still it 
continued to blow and rain, this continuing well 
into the night. 

Morning found them still in the cabin, unharmed 
by the storm, which had swept that portion of the 
country the day previous. The birds ;'^ere twit- 
tering; and the cattle bellowing, for everything 
seemed more life-like than it had the day before. 
Even the blades of tough prairie grass seemed clear- 
er, as it waved to and fro in the gentle breeze that 
swept the vale. 


8 


^^The Hero Of The West” 


Shortly after seven in the morning, the boys re- 
turned to the task at which they had been working 
the day before. It was the felling of a large pine 
which stood on the sloping hillside northeast of the 
cabin. With its enormous branches stretched forth 
and its top against the distant snow-capped moun- 
tain made it look rather peculiar, especially to the 
boys when they had first come to those parts. Al- 
though the storm had done untold damage to other 
pines in the neighboring vicinity it seemed as if the 
wind had not been able to uproot this mammoth 
tree. 

“Well, Ray,’* began Nat, “we ought to have this 
monster down by sunset, and I reckon we can if 
we try hard enough. 

“But we’ve got to put our strength to it, for it’’s 
not like felling a cherry tree, by any means.” 

All morning they worked hard at their task, 
gradually shortening the life of the stately tree. 
Noon came, and after a slim repast, they resumed 
their work on the hillside, hoping to complete their 
work during the latter half of the day. 

Thud, thud, thud; came from the ax as it sank 
into the sappy wood. Soon the aged pine began 
to quiver and before long it was resting upon the 
sloping hillside. 

“It worked fine,” Nat remarked, studying it crit- 
ically 

Nothing but a small conversation went between 
the two now, and after a few moments they were 
again bound for home — the little cabin in the dell. 


^^The Hero Of The Wesf’ 


9 


CHAPTER II. 

The Unexpected Letter, 

The afternoon had been scorching on the heights 
above, where rocky slope and climbing pines pierce 
their summits through a veil of white clouds, but 
the foggy canyon was exceedingly chilly. In these 
great rifts eternal gloom reigns, and from them 
soares lingering desolation. All that day humanity 
had labored strenuously at various tasks, and now 
gray and solemn shadows were quickly falling, 
swiftly decreasing the hours of day. Human activ- 
ities which had rang merrily along these walls, 
throwing distinct echoes, were now quieted, so 
quiet, in fact, that it seemed as though the whole 
world had been deserted. 

As the moon rose, however, flooding the sur- 
rounding plain with a silver light, in which cactus 
glittered as if it had been frosted, a dark object ap- 
peared, moving cautiously along the summit of one 
of the small ridges in the immediate vicinity. The 
object was a human head which seemed to be 
reconnoitcring the situation very carefully. Pres- 
ently, a second head appeared, and low voices were 
heard, which if we had been there, we should have 
recognized as those of Donald Greely and Ralph 
Fulton, notorious New York swindlers. 

‘T really do not know for what purpose Bradford 
wants those papers,” Greely admitted. “But I do 
know he wants them bad — you see this year will 
mean that he’s got to prove to the United States 
government that the mine belongs to him, or else 


10 ''The Hero Of The West” 


fork up part of the claim as homestead land. In a 
private talk with Bradford I understood that he was a 
sorter claiment and that by some chance or another 
he had stumbled into this affair. He’s quite tricky, 
you know, Fulton, and at once laid plans for win- 
ning:. The real owner is some Charles Henderson, 
and if 1 caught it right, 1 believe Bradford said his 
son had them now; that is, Henderson’s son.” He 
paused, glancing slyly in all directions. 

“Where is the kid?” 

“Somewhere in Moonstone Valley,” was the re- 
ply. “About a ten mile crow flight from here. It’s 
a rather hard place to find, so I learned, but as you 
know there’s a big reward, if we bring them safely 
to Bradford.” 

“Yes, I understand,” Fulton returned, leaning 
forward toward Greely. “And we’ll get ’em, too.” 

Soon they had kindled a fire, and after mealing, 
they set off over the rocky mountain roads. How- 
ever, before they started, Fulton withdrew from 
his pocket a tiny well-worn map, and kneeling be- 
fore the flickering light, they studied it with great 
care 

The dark night wore slowly away, but still dawn 
would ultimately come, they were quite sure of that, 
so, with this thought in mind they plodded onward. 
The warm, comfortable atmosphere of the summer 
night invigorated them as they followed the shad- 
owy trail. The owl in some nearby tree hooted 
incessently her cadences, which made night an un- 


11 


‘'The Hero Of The West” 


expressible lonliness. Down in the deep valley the 
coyote called dismally her fleeing mate, as he went 
scrambling over rock and glade in search of fresh 
meat. 

Soon birds began to twitter, and the little frog 
ceased her continued croaking as it became lighter 
in the far east. 

As soon as it was daylight, Greely resolved to 
climb one of the highest trees, to take a general 
view of their whereabouts. 

Climbing came exceedingly easy to him, especially 
as the tree he selected had numerous branches, some 
growing quite closely to the ground. Once in the 
top, he was able to see a goodly distance in all di- 
rections. Far to his left were gray mountains over 
which he and his chum had traversed the day be- 
fore. To the right was a valley, encircled in a 
cloud of morning fog which had not yet risen. In 
this valley was situated the cabin for which their 
eyes were so eager to discover; yet, beyond this, 
there was a reason of even weightier significance 
that appealed to them. Seeing nothing else of any 
importance he concluded to descend from Nature's 
tower and resume the journey. 

By the middle of the forenoon of that day, they 
spied the cabin, lying deep in a green wooded dell 
eight hundred feet below the place from where we 
first met them. Hours passed on. 

With an exorbitant amount of smoke rising from 
the chimney, bestowed that there must be some 


12 


^‘The Hero Of The West” 


one existing in or close by the house at that mo- 
ment. 

“What now?” asked Fulton, amazedly. 

“Wedl run in the direction where there’s the least 
noise.” 

They darted off toward the cabin. 

“Queer,” remarked Nat, from within, “I thought 
1 heard a peculiar noise, but I guess ’twas some 
toad or something of such a nature.” 

“I’ll make sure, pard,” Ray assured, “for no 
one can be trusted in this ‘No Man’s Land.’ ” 

“Listen ! There it is again — What is it ?” 

Ray became suddenly interested as he heard the 
noise, and listening intently, remarked : “Say, that 
is funny; and hark! There’s another off to the 
north.” 

The desperadoes were advancing upon the cabin 
from the rear, both men holding a ready pistol in 
his hand. They stole toward the hut like so many 
glittering-eyed devils, positive of victory. 

“Go slow, Fulton,” came softly from Greely. 

Cautiously as the uninvited visitors crept, how- 
ever, the occasional sharp crack of a twig pro- 
claimed their presence. 

“Get out the rifles — bolt the doors!” commanded 
Ray, sharply, as an unusual heavy thumping was 
heard on the door. 

“Hold on there, or we’ll shoot!” yelled Nat, peep- 
ing through a crack in the wall. 


''The Hero Of The West” 


13 


In anvSwer a bullet whizzed through the door, 
lodging in the mud-plastered wall on the opposite 
side of the small room. From that time on, for 
nearly twenty minutes, a steady ripping of shots 
were being fired. At last Greely and Fulton were 
forced to retreat, having run short of ammunition. 

“What in the world do you suppose they wanted, 
Ray?” Nat asked, after they had watched the mys- 
terious men disappear in the thick mountain foliage 
in the distance. 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” was the puzzled reply. 

“Confound the luck ! Why didn’t you shake a leg 
when I signaled the first time, you skunk?” storm- 
ed Fulton, fretting because of their failure to out- 
wit their opponents. 

Greely said nothing, but paced the floor ex- 
citedly. Once he stopped and raised his head, but 
only for a moment, again starting off in that same 
mood. 

“Say, old man,” broke out Greely suddenly, “I 
have an idea. Suppose that I write young Hender- 
son a letter, asking that he meet me as an old friend 
at Shannon’s Bridge to-night. I’ll wager we’ll get 
the papers then.” 

“Hugh! That’s simple enough, but are you sure 
he’ll have the deeds with him?” 

“Well,” thought Greely, “I could introduce my- 
self as old James Morgan, of New York. You 
know the lawyer was an old friend of the kid s 


i4 


‘ The Hero Of The West” 


father, so I reckon that it wouldn’t be very hard 
to get the boy interested.” 

This, indeed, sounded very logical, so after a little 
discussion on the matter, Greely decided to write 
the letter. 

It took Greely some time, but at length he com- 
pleted the letter, and calling Fulton to his side, 
he read: 


“ ‘Friend: 

“‘Because I feel it is, nothing less than my duty, 
I am v/riting you concerning a matter in which you have 
unlimited interests. 

“ ‘It was but three weeks ago that a man by the 
name of Seymore Bradford, a New York merchant, visited 
my office on special matters concerning a rich mine out 
here in the West. A short time ago I learned that you 
held the deeds, and that you were out here filing govern- 
ment claims. 

‘‘ ‘Now, that this man means you no actual harm, 
he intends to seize the papers through some under-handed 
trickerj^ My busine.ss did not exactly bring me out in 
these paits for the purpose of looking into your affairs, 
but the strange man’s peculiar attitude toward you and 
your father led me to believe you were in danger. And 
it is for this reason that I ask j^ou if I may convey the 
papers to the Great Atlantic Bank of New York City. If 
you feel interested meet me to-night at ten o’clock just 
north of Shannon’s Bridge.’ ” 

“ ‘Respectfully yours, 

James Morgon, LL.D.’ ” 


“Well, Fnlton,” scornfully remarked Greely, as 
he surveyed the papers, “That’ll fool the kid.” 

Fulton admitted that the plan was actually a good 
one, and no doubt would work out in their behalf. 


*‘TIie Hero Of The Wes^ 


15 


They knew that they were taking a great risk to use 
Morgan's name, but what wouldn’t be attempted in 
a case like this. 

As Fulton disappeared in the underbrush of the 
wilderness, bound for the Henderson homestead, 
Greely felt fully convinced that their visit to the 
West had been paid in full. The horse on which 
the messenger rode was swift — a bony beast of 
Western breed — who seemed to know the West and 
its trails almost as well as the old pioneer. 

Soon the cabin was sighted, snuggly resting in 
that fertile valley. The little pool rippled crimson* 
ly in the full rays of a setting sun, and the bush and 
pine cast long, black shadows. 


CHAPTER HI. 

A Ride For The Hills. 

“There’s one thing I know now, anyhow,” mut- 
tered Fulton, with some complacency in his mind, 
“and that is that young Henderson '11 get badly 
fooled if that other helper of his doesn’t show up.” 

Onward the two pressed. 

“Whoa shouted the rider to his horse, when they 
were not over ten yards from the cabin. 

As he dismounted from his pony, he realized that 
he was not to bestow any sign whatever of the bat- 
tle in the forenoon j but as bold a man as he was, 
he felt he was taking a great risk, and trembled at 
the thought. 


16 


^^The Hero Of The Wesr 


‘‘I’d like to know if they’ll recognize me now?” 
he asked himself, as he placed a small mustache on 
his upper lip. “For if they do, I’ll be full of bullets 
before I get back.” 

The sunlight slanted on his face as he stood 
there. Pie held his head down for a moment, as if 
m thought, and then he raised it, looking out across 
the bare hills which towered high above him. Night 
was quickly coming apace and though it was quite 
light in the valley as yet, the distant foothills had 
already clad themselves with that sort of inky 
blackness. Betwixt this shadowy blackness and the 
nervous desperado, approached a tired piece of 
humanity. 

“Stranger, what be your mission?” 

“To speak with Mr. Henderson,” Fulton replied, 
his eyes twitched nervously. I presume this is the 
man ?” 

“Hardly; but I’ll call him.” 

Ray now disappeared from view, entering the 
cabin. He found Nat busily engaged in preparing 
their supper. Walking up to the boy, he whispered 
m his ear : “There”s a stranger that wants to speak 
with you, Nat — better go out an’ see.” 

Henderson looked curious but said nothing. He 
at once left everything, making his way to the door. 

After Pulton had delivered the letter he mounted 
his bronco. The little animal and his rider were 
soon once more among the rough, broken ground 


^^The Hero Of The West” 


17 


and stiff scrub-brush of the upper foothills, leaving 
Nat and his chum poring interestingly over the 
paper they had just received. In a clump of greese- 
wood, Fulton reined his horse to a standstill, and 
turning himself in the deep saddle, he gazed back 
at the two far below. 

“Well, v/hat’s your idea of this letter, Ray?” 
inquired Nat, looking his chum squarely in the 
eyes. 

“I can t imagine it of very much importance,” 
was the response after a second reading. 

“Here is where I strongly disagree with you. I 
am positively sure that this letter is of unusual im- 
j)ortance, so much so that it was brought by special 
messenger.’* 

“Not that I am here to accuse any person of a 
crime or anything of the sort, but I sorter believe 
that that fellow is connected with some kind of a 
plot ; it cc’uldn't be one of those fellows that raided 
us this morning, could it, Nat?” 

“That’s what I’ve been a-thinkin’ — but how 
would he know Lawyer Morgon?” 

This was tlie great question that faced them. It 
was undoubtedly the most complicated puzzle that 
had ever confronted them. Deeper and deeper they 
plunged inU. its contents, with every nerve alert, 
until at last they concentrated it to be a subject that 
would prove nothing but satisfactory. 


18 


^^The Hero Of The WesH 


Night again drew down its gray curtain over the 
hills and canyons, and the chirping birds now ceased 
^ their lull-a-by melodies and twittered tremuously 
upon their high roosts, while the toad again chuck- 
led her annoying series of musical notes in a con- 
glomerate fashion in some swampy spot in the val- 
ley. The red sun, monstrous and perfect in its con- 
tour dwelt, as it seemed, for an instant in the far 
West, ere it sank beneath that dark rim of moun- 
tains, beyoud where lies the great waters of the 
Pacific. 

Fulton had by this time arrived at his cabin in 
the foothills and there found Greely pacing ner- 
vously up and down the room. His expressions 
showed plainly that he was full of dismay. Where 
was Fulton, thought he. Whether he had been 
caught in his little trick, or whether he had lost 
courage, Greely did not know? But he did know 
only too well what it would mean to them had Ful- 
ton been so unlucky as not to carry his mission to 
a successful end. 

“My God ! If Fulton has failed, no one else will 
get the blame but me, and — and — I know he’ll kill 
me !” And to that his steps grew longer and faster. 

But just then the door opened, and in stepped the 
man who was causing Greely such anxiety. 

“Ah! How did it turn out?” Greely inquired. 

“Fine, Greely!” 

It was eight by the village clock of Kelso when 
young Henderson and his partner mounted their 


"The Hero Of The West” 19 


steeds and started toward their destination. A few 
seconds later, had we been there, we should have 
observed Greely and Fulton also mounting their 
horses, under heavy disguise. 

“Ray,’ began Nat, earnestly, after they had jour- 
neyed some time in the night of stars and silence, 
“We had better check our speed and part here, you 
cross this ravine and meet me at the bridge yonder.” 

They had planned this departure so as not to cre- 
ate any disturbed suspicion between the swindlers, 
if that is what they would prove to be, for evidently, 
if Greely should see the two boys together he would 
comprehend and thence the whole matter would be 
upset. 

Then there came a sudden interruption that cut 
their speech short. It was the thump, thump of some 
discernible person approaching on the bridge below. 

“I really believe that is Morgan,” was Nat’s 
thought when he came fairly close to the individual. 

“Ah! You arrived?” was the fluctuating answer. 
“Fine evening?” 

“Yes; an extremely flne evening.” 

The clear moonlit night revealed the oval face, 
the restless eyes, and the long tapering hand which 
was shoved forward in anticipation of receiving a 
hearty welcome. 

“May I ask if you have the papers in your pos- 
session at this moment? If so I should like to glance 
them over a bit. I think I can see by the light of the 


moon. 


20 


‘‘The Hero Of The Wes^ 


“I have, but I don’t think it fair to myself to ex- 
ercise too much faith in a person I meet at such a 
time as this, sir,” Nat said, strongly. ‘‘Nor do I 
think it much of your affairs to be a-buttin’ in my 
business. You — ” 

“See here, young man. I don’t recognize your right 
in speaking to me like that! 1 mean nothing but 
good, and any person who is so toad-brained as 
can’t see that, there isn’t very much chance for him 
on this earth. 

“Now, look here, Henderson, you are right in 
stating that it’s none of my affairs whether you 
lose those papers or — ’‘ 

“I beg your pr^rdon, sir, but I did not mention 
the papers, furthermore — ” 

“Well, but you were referring to them,” he re- 
turned, mildly. “But I do say, that such a misfor- 
tune on your part would not be for the best, and 
you know it, too, if you’ll stop and think. Do you 
recollect the time when the great Steel Corporation 
in 18 — lost that well known deed to the Minnesota 
Iron Region, merely through fraud? Well, the 
time may come when you will experience the very 
same thing. Now, if I were you, I would listen what 
my elders had to say, and then act as my own con- 
science dictated. What do you say, Henderson?” 

“You'll not get a smell of the papers until you 
prove yourself Mr. James Morgan of New York 
City!” 


*'The Hero Of The West” 


21 


“Your ways are different from mine, boy,” 
Greely concluded, after which he gave a shrill 
whistle that echoed and re-echoed in and out the 
mountain passes. This sudden signal had been 
planned by Fulton and the man present, in case 
the latter should be in want of help, should any 
uprising come about. 

At the time of this signal, Fulton was sitting be- 
neath a wide-spreading oak in whose branches hung 
a savage reptile. Daring not to move and unable 
to reply, he was forced to remain in the same posi- 
tion. Ray, upon hearing the whistle — which chanc- 
ed to have been the very same one planned by him- 
self and Nat — set out to rescue his partner. 

At the time of Ray’s appearance upon the scene, 
Greely and Nat were engaged in a hot battle. Grunts 
were heard from them both as they received un- 
bearable blows. They came together like mad dogs, 
their eyes seemingly glowing with fire in the dark- 
ness. Although not visible from where Ray was 
standing, the men’s faces were covered with blood, 
their shirts ripped, and their hair matted in the 
thickening stain. Once they clinched, each holding 
his ground for some considerable time. On and on 
they fought until at last every bit of strength seem- 
ed to leave them, their blood-stained fingers grip- 
ping the death grip. 

Indeed, it did seem queer that Ray did not inter- 
fere, but he knew too much of the West and its 
laws to part fighting men; he knew what Old Man 
Lynch promised the man who so did ; he knew that 


22 


“The Hero Of The Wes^ 


mad mob! Although he did not dare to help Nat, 
he stood ready to kill Greely, should he win the 
battle. 

Again the men broke — clinched. Oh, God ! How 
they longed for a grain more of strength; just one! 
Nat had his fingers about Greely’ s throat, while 
the other strove to gain his opponent’s. But he 
couldn’t! He strove, tugged, prayed, but in vain! 
’Twas like a dream; every movement impossible. 

Finally Greely fell from exhaustion, struck the 
back of his head, and like a flash, all things were 
wiped from his vision and the few moments came 
swiftly. 

Now Ray stepped up, and carrying Nat in fire- 
men’s fashion, they went to where the horses were 
standing. Ray managed to get his companion on 
the steed, after which they rode off, disappearing 
in the dense darkness. 


CHAPTER IV. 

The Wayside Inn. 

‘'What be that, Ray?” Nat asked, as they made 
their way out of a deep gully and saw in the far 
distance a small building towering quite high above 
the horizon. 

“That’s the French Inn, ‘Egalite.’ I move we 
bunk there for the night; how does that hit you, 
Nat?” 


^^The Hero Of The West” 23 


“It makes no difference to me, but I think it 
would be some better as we don’t want to meet that 
fellow again. I presume he’s not in an unusual good 
humor. I should give a lot to know if he died after 
we left.” 

“I hardly think that, as he was but unconscious.” 

By this time they had reached the Inn. It was a 
two-story affair built of the rudest kind of stone and 
whitewashed. Indeed, it looked shabby, but none 
the less inviting for that. About the place stood 
tall pines, their branches furnishing an excellent 
shade for tourists during the hot portion of the day. 

Presently, they rode up to the gate, dismounted 
their horses and tied them to a tree. 

A small, French-bred man met them at the door, 
and invited them in in his peculiar way, he bade 
them have lunch. This they did, and after arrang- 
ing for the night’s lodging and breakfast in the 
morning, they were taken to their room on the sec- 
ond floor. 

“Say, Ray,” put in Nat after the Frenchman had 
left them, “This reminds me of our barn back East.’" 

“You’re right there kid.” 

In another hour the homesteaders were wrapped 
in deep slumber. 

Below the boys’ apartment something was occur- 
ring that neither Ray or Nat were aware of. A 
conversation was ensuing between the proprietor 


24 ''The Hero Of The Wes^ 


and two men. They were exceedingly shabby 
looking, ugly in spech and sly, but still, however, the 
little Frenchman seemed to have unusual faith in 
them, listening intently and answering all questions. 

“Did I understand that you said there were two 
boys lodging here to-night?” inquired Fulton, draw- 
ing up the fellow’s ear. 

“Yez, ziree,” was the respond. Zhey are on ze 
second floor, but I don’t ze know where zhey are 
ze going.” And he shrugged his shoulders. 

“That doesn’t mean anything to us,” Fulton 
whispered back. “All I want to know is if they are 
armed. Come now, Frenchy, spit out what you’ve 
got to say.” 

“I don’t ze know, zer.” 

“Well, never mind then, but hurry us up to our 
room. My pard doesn’t feel extra good to-night.” 

“Maybe he gets into ze scrape and got ze licked,” 
and the Frenchman grnned, foolishly. 

“D — you ! That’s none of your business. Come 
on now, or I’ll knock that nanny-goat face of yours 
clear off your shoulders, do you hear ?” 

Nothing more was said until they reached the as- 
signed room, and then the fellow left them, stating 
that breakfast would be ready at seven o’clock. 

“I’d give a good bit to know if they have discov- 
ered anything yet,” observed Fulton. “I wonder 
how long they have been here.” 


^^The Hero Of The ^ Wes^ 


25 


“They can’t have been here so long,” put in 
Greely. “We came here as soon as we were able.” 

Some minutes fled, after which the men decided 
their course of action. 

“It occures to me that the best way to get at those 
deeds would be to enter the room and pocket them,” 
suggested Fulton, after they had learned of the 
boys’ apartment. 

It was not long, however, until they were on their 
mission. 

How long the boys had slept they did not know, 
but all of a sudden Nat awoke with a start not 
knowing what had awakened him. Ray was sleep- 
ing soundly. 

“Ray 1” he cried softly, but there came no reply. 

The room being in semi-darkness, very little of 
the place could be seen from where the boy lay. 

“It’s mighty queer what woke me; I usually 
sleep well.” thought he. 

He fell back in bed again and tried to sleep, but 
all was in vain. And though he lay with his eyes 
closed, sleep was as far from him as it had ever 
chanced to be before. He shivered but said noth- 
ing. 

“Can it be the landlord?” he questioned himself, 
as he heard the lock click. “If it is, what on earth 
does he want in here at this time of the night?” 

The bed in which the boy lay was fixed in such 
a position that it was quite difficult for him to see 


26 


‘^The Hero Of The Wes^ 


any significant part of the room in his present po- 
sition. As noiselessly as possible, he changed about 
until the entire room was within his view. Hardly 
had he settled in his new place than he beheld two 
figures cross the doorsill to his left. Then a slight 
puff of air came in as the door was closed, extin- 
guishing the lamp, leaving them in total darkness. 

“My God, can it be Morgan attacking us again?’' 
mused Nat, quiveringly. “No; for he was alone 
when met at the bridge. Can it be the inn-keeper 
with him?” This last thought lingered for a little 
while upon his mind, but soon he dismissed it, too. 
He became desperate ! 

“Wake up, Ray,” the boy yelled at the top of his 
lungs. “There’s somebody here who doesn’t belong 
here!” 

“What’s that, man ?” Ray returned sleepily. 

“Somebody’s in this room — there — ” But he 
stopped as he felt the clutch of a hand about his 
throat. 

“You fool! If you utter a word. I’ll fill you full 
of bullets, do you hear?” 

“Let go of me! If I ever — ” spurted forth Ray 
from the other side of the room, as he, too, was be- 
ing assaulted by one of the two arrivals. 

Nat, though he had put up a desperate fight, lay 
now beaten on the tiny cot, his mouth gaged and 
his hands and feet tied, while both the desperadoes 
were handling Ray, who yet was able to hold his 
own. 


^^TJie Hero Of The V/esf^ 27 


A few minutes passed, Ray becoming weaker and 
weaker, finally giving up. 

“We’re going to get those papers to-night, young 
man,” announced Greely, walking up to Nat. 

The boy could not answer. 

“Light that lamp and quit foolin’ with the kid, 
Greely,” Fulton insinuated. “You’ll never get ’em 
that way.” 

The person spoken to at once complied to orders, 
and it was not long after, however, until they found 
that for which they were searching. 

“I say, what iz zis noise. You make worse ze 
noize zan if a box of fine spaghetti fall to ze floor. 
This will ze come ’a outrance!” 

“Get out of here or I’ll make you dance awhile !” 

The Frenchman stepped aside, letting Fulton and 
Greely pass through the door, the men disappearing 
in the darkness without. 

Nervous as was the little fellow, he possessed 
enough wit about him to investigate as to the boys’ 
situation. It was not long until the boys had made 
clear their misfortune, been united, and were chas- 
ing up the mountain side after the fleeing men. 

“Go!” echoed Fulton, putting his heels to his 
mount. 

With their revolvers in hand, the boys rode down 
the narrow trail toward a rising sun, which was be- 
ginning its day’s illumination. As they spurred 
their horses onward over that rough trail, even the 


28 


^^The Hero Of The West” 


lonely rabbit by the side gave a frightened noise, 
and bounded off into the dense underbrush. Birds 
flitted upward, and the tiny snake wriggled to one 
side lest he should be trampled on. To look upon 
these two riders as they left the winding trail be- 
hind them, would seem to denote that nothing else 
in the world was yet awake. Presently, they turned 
round a sharp bend, and was lost from sight. 

CHAPTER V. 

The Wreck. 

“Cut across Leather-Path Canyon, and we’ll meet 
them before they reach Kelso!” 

At once the two boys reigned their ponies up the 
steep trail to their left, the animals clawing brisk- 
ly at the rocky path. Up the trail they went, for 
nearly a mile, at length coming to a slight level at 
the summit of the range. About this level they ling- 
ered some little time, scanning the beautiful green- 
ery below. 

“I'll be hanged if that isn’t the Northern Pa- 
cific!”’ ejaculated Nat, as he saw the great train 
crawl slowly round the bend to their south. “Let’s 
hop it, Ray. 

“My God!” murmured Ray, frantically, “that 
train’s running wild. The engineer is hanging from 
the cab window now!” 

“But where’s the fireman?” questioned Nat, as 
he looked in the direction pointed out by Ray. 


^^The Hero Of The West” 29 


Ray did not stop to think, but instantly sprang 
onto the next car forward, and made his way to- 
ward the racing engine. Down the steep and wind- 
ing track flew the iron horse, breathing furiously 
as it tossed to and fro. From the open door of the 
fire-box poured great puffing volumes of smoke, al- 
most blinding the two boys as they climbed from 
the box car into the tender. Over the coal they 
sprang, and within a few seconds were within the 
cab. Everything seemed in a chaos, nothing as it 
should have been. 

The engineer hung from the cab window, a large 
gash on the forehead. The fireman was missing. 
Everything as far as the running of condition of the 
engine was concerned, seemed perfect. There was 
one thing, however, that actually puzzled the boys, 
and that was why the engine was now travelling 
so much faster than it had been when first they be- 
held it. Indeed, this was a mystery. What could 
have happened to the man, they did not know nor 
could they even conjecture the outcome of the af- 
fair. Nat at once gripped the throttle, but somehow 
it did not respond. 

“Ray, I think someone’s been tamperin’ with 
these—” 

“My God, man,” burst in Ray, “we can’t lose any 
time — it means life or death!” 

Indeed, they were risking their lives. The runa- 
way engine went speeding along that groove in the 


30 ^^The Hero Of The Wesf^ 


mountain without control, sticking to the rails as if 
glued. Faster and faster it seemed to tear with- 
out no limit, without no fear. Several times it 
seemed to sway too far, but again would bounce 
back upon the rails. 

Although the scene was tragic, it did not take the 
boys long to decide what they were going to do. 
They lifted the body of the engineer from the cab 
window and carried him to the steps of the engine. 
As carefully as they could they let him down until 
he almost touched the ground. Then they dropped 
him, but in such a manner that he fared none the 
worse for the little fall. He rolled for a few feet, 
and then to the astonishment of the boys in the cab, 
he sat up, seemed to scratch his head and for the 
first time realized what was taking place. The sud- 
den shock which he had received had deprived him 
of his reasoning, but now a second had miraculously 
restored his senses. This had but one glorious 
thought — the engineer had been recalled to life and 
reason. 

A second later Nat spied a long dump of dirt, and 
almost instantaneously let his body whirl into space. 
Ray watched his companion’s movements, and when 
he saw Nat rise to his feet and beckon, there seemed 
to surge through his body a feeling of uncontrolla- 
ble joy. And, indeed, it seemed as a tonic to his 
perplexed mind. Then without the least tremor, 
Ray knelt for one awful moment on the verge of 
space, put over first one leg and then the other. Al- 


^‘The Hero Of The Wesr 31 


most too suddenly he felt the same rush into air that 
his chum had but a few moments previously ex- 
perienced; the same grip of unconsciousness while 
in mid-air. The boy landed half-way down an in- 
cline. Unfortunately, Ray had not found such a 
good place upon which to alight, so with almost 
dangerous velocity, he went head over heels, slid 
for ten or twelve feet and then reached the bottom 
of the embankment. 

The boy’s head landed squarely against the stump 
of an old tree, and when two men approached him 
he was just struggling to a sitting posture, rubbing 
his head and staring about as if collecting his scat- 
tered senses. 

“Hello! Who are you?” asked Ray, bewildered, 
as one of the men gripped him by the shoulder. 

“Rather forgetful, Fulton, eh?” 

“Just about time that you learn our acquaintance, 
young man 1” 

“Not much to learn, Mr. Morgan, since you feel 
so d — proud of yourself !” 

Ray had by this time recalled his missing facul- 
ties, and was now almost as witty as his famous 
New York “lawyer.” It was when the boy was 
about to rise to his feet that Fulton’s fist drove for- 
ward like a huge cylindric rod of flesh and muscle, 
catching him squarely under the chin. The terrific 
concussion of the blow rendered Ray temporarily 
unconscious. 


32 ^^The Hero Of The West” 


“Quick, Greely,” mumbled Fulton. “Toward 
Black Eagle Canyon!” 

Just then there was a mighty road as the ill-fated 
engine turned onto a spur, hit the bunting-post at 
the end, and went headlong down the steep mountain 
side. 

“Ray, where have you been?” asked Nat, excited- 
ly, as he bent over his chum. 

“Why, no where — where have you been ?” 

“Came as fast as I could. You know there’s 
some distance between here, and where I jumped.’* 

“You never jumpted, did you, Mr. Henderson?” 

“Never mind, Ray, you just lie down here for a 
few moments, till I fetch some water from the 
creek.” 

Soon Nat was on his embassy, taking the trail 
which led down into regions of rock and brush. Af- 
ter a short time he came to the little watercourse. 
This little creek gurgled from a mountain spring, 
and flowed freely over a shelf -like level for some 
distance. There singing round little boulders, 
splashing down a little fall, laughed the water. In 
it swam tiny fish, ducking every once in a while 
beneath the green, thallus body of Marchantia, and 
other mosses. 

After some little difficulty, however, he succeeded 
in finding a place on the edge of the water-course 
upon which he could stand while he dipped his 
sombrero into the water. 


^‘The Hero Of The Wesf^ 


33 


Some moments later, when he had arrived at his 
comrade’s side, he chanced to glance up, throwing 
his eyes in the direction of the canyon, and down 
against the rocky background, were seen two men. 
This new discovery enthused him, and rising to his 
feet, he took a second glance. 

‘‘Look, Ray! Yonder; to the base of the canyon. 
Do you see anyone?” 

“By God, I do Nat! And it’s the two men that 
just attacked me!” 

“What! Do you mean to say you have met that 
fellow again ? But who’s the other one ?” 

“Never mind who he is! We want ’em both.” 
And to that Ray rose, staggered but caught himself 
again, and with renewed vigor and strength, he set 
off after the two specks in the valley, Nat close be- 
hind. 

Down they went until they reached the elevation 
which was more like a shelf on the mountainside 
than anything else, and over which the little creek 
ran, spurting forth from a cavity in the mountain 
wall and foaming over a precipious slab of rock, dis- 
appearing in a misty cloud. On this shelf they 
stopped, looking down in search of the men who 
they had seen but a few moments previous. 

It was nearly a thousand feet down. There was 
a river meandering through the dense olive-colored 
wilderness in the far distance. Here and there were 
foaming rapids, but so remote that they could not be 
distinguished only that light green hue. The river 


34 ^‘The Hero Of The WesH 


was like a heavy and sluggish fluid of inky black- 
ness flowing between the walls. It emerged from 
an acute bend of a sheer rock, probably ten miles 
or so away to the northward, disappearing around 
a bend of another cliff an equal distance to the 
southward. It was early, however, but still they 
discerned all this through the gray mist of the 
morning. 

As they turned, once in a while, they preceived 
the walls, and land above, lighten as the red sun 
crept farther up into the heavens, at their rear. 

“Ray,” said Nat, after having scrutinized the 
scenery, “it seems to me that if we take the Deer 
Trail we can head them off before they ever reach 
the top of that wall. What’s your idea ?” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised but that you are right, 
Nat.” 

And as he swept his eyes out over the land, he 
seemed to grasp its marvels all at once. On the 
slope to his right grew monsterous pines, sighing 
softly in the breeze of the mountain. Looking far- 
ther down that seemingly endless groove, off there 
in the distance rose the mountain to a higher ele- 
vation. This sight was one of the many wonderful 
wonders of the West. Tinted with that ever chang- 
ing pink, blue, and green ; dotted here and there by 
brownish projecting rocks; adorned by the leaping 
fall of sparkling water, all together made up the 
beauty, which so often lures the tenderfoot into its 
wilds. 


^^The Hero Of The F/esH 35 


Presently, after having located the fleeing men 
again, the boys set out on the trail mentioned by 
Nat. 

‘Td just like to know where the young rascals 
are keeping themselves,” came from Greely, as the 
two were climbing rock over rock toward the sum- 
mit of the wall, in that deep dismal canyon. 

“Most likely they’ve concluded that it’s best to 
leave us have the papers after all,” Fulton replied, 
shrugging his shoulders. 

Now the tape-wide trickle of water seen from 
above, had become a good-sized river of rapids and 
whirlpools; that one long stretch of black, ugly 
green had changed into lovely, cool woods, and 
damp thickets. Great pines furnished the shaded 
nooks for which a westerner is always in search. 
In these districts the sun is very rarely seen, but still 
the bear, the bird, and the fox is as happy as ever. 

By this time the boys had arrived at the top. 
The desperadoes were a hundred feet or more be- 
low them, yet the hoarse grumble of their voices 
were clearly heard. 

A few moments later Greely and Fulton were 
on level ground again, making their way toward 
Malvern Range in the distance. The boys crouched 
quietly behind a large bush by the path, and it was 
when these two men passed by that they sprang 
upon them. The papers which the New York men 
were reading with interest dropped unnoticed to 
the ground. Nat hurriedly picked them up and 


36 ^^The Hero Of The Wesr 


rushing away, he reappeared behind a cluster of 
dense foliage. Presently, he was back again, and 
to his astonishment found poor Ray lying upon 
the ground in a semi-unconscious condition. 

“They’ve — they’ve gone, Nat,” was Ray’s first 
words. 

“But not with the papers, old boy,” Nat re- 
sponded, happily. 

The men had fled after they had overpowered 
Ray, thinking it for their best that they go while 
chances were good. 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Confession. 

“Fulton,” said Greely, after they had despatched 
a hearty out-door meal, “We sure did a fine job 
in holding those papers,” — 

Low mumbling voices were heard! A thud of 
footsteps echoed from around the bend in the 
road. 

“But what?” asked Fulton, anxiously glancing in 
all directions. 

Greely did not answer. 

Louder and louder the sound became, until at 
length Fulton became aware of some person or 
persons approaching. 

“Look yonder!” Greely at last ordered. “For 
heaven’s sake let’s make for that hill up there.” 


^‘The Hero Of The West” 37 


“Why, man.” burst out Fulton, “They see us!” 

And so the boys did; for, at once they gave 
chase, again their thoughts clear, and fighting 
spirit renewed. 

The hill toward where the desperadoes were 
fleeing was quite thickly covered with pines and 
bushes, — pines ten and twelve feet through, so 
huge that one could hardly look over one of their 
prostrate trunks even from the back of the pony. 
About some of these trees a certain parasitic moss 
girdled their trunks. The color of this peculiar 
moss was of a brilliant yellow-green. The shape 
was krinkly and curly, nevertheless, it was dry and 
exceedingly brittle. It formed in inch- wide par- 
allel bands, a foot or so apart. It twined higher 
and higher until some sundry branch was reached; 
then it proceeded to conceal that. The somberest 
shadows of the arriving twilight was always light- 
ed by the vivid yellow-green moss. 

Presidently, after Greely and Fulton had picked 
their way through this wilderness of debris, they 
came upon an almost vertical wall, and here they 
stopped. Were they now doomed? Would Hen- 
derson and his companion overtake them before 
they would find some means of escape? These 
questions confronted them with no little bearing, yet 
they again started, this time making their way 
along a path that circled round the high rock, but 
which seemed to become narrower as they con- 
tinued. 


38 


''The Hero Of The Wesf^ 


“Fulton, you don’t mean to continue on a path 
like this, do you?’’ asked Greely, as his friend 
picked the way. 

“I’ll admit it’s rather dangerous, but, pard, we’ve 
got to do it.” 

They had not gone more than fifty feet when 
they came to the end of the path which led in the 
loose dirt. The last two hundred feet of the path 
had been nothing more than a loose, shaly bottom, 
such a bed of rock as would be found where sea 
water had once been. The tremendous granite 
slides, where thousands of tons of rock fragments 
had avalanched and covered the once-laid trail of 
the sixties, are still to be seen, and truly these 
trails discourage man and beast. 

“A cave! What luck!” shouted Greely, as they 
confronted an opening over six feet square. The 
entrance was covered by a dainty growth of vine 
and moss, which gave to the air a peculiar odor 
and dampness. At once they decided to enter. 

The descent into the cave was a gradual one for 
over forty or fifty feet. Beyond this, the cavern 
broadened out and became much higher. Over- 
head hung colored stalactites of genuine lime rock, 
tinged with other minerals which lay hidden in this 
mountain. 

On and on the two went, over a dark ugly floor- 
ing of stone, reeking with wet and slimy moss. By 
this time the homesteaders had found tracks in the 
loose shale outside, and were tracing them up the 
mound before the cavq, entrance. 


‘^The Hero Of The West” 


39 


Presently, the boys arrived at the entrance, and 
without once discussing their dislike of entering 
the cavern, they pushed forward. Though they 
were somewhat accustomed to caves of this sort, 
they proceeded with great care, especially as they 
wanted to avoid even the semblance of further 
mishaps. 

“Great Caesar! What a cave!” exclaimed Ful- 
ton, after they had continued for some little dis- 
tance. 

“I agree,” responded Greely. “But do you think 
they are following us?” 

“I doubt it.” 

“Well, I consder your doubting very witless ; for 
we’re here to take care of you fellows right now !” 
interrupted Nat, as the boys ran upon the men. 

“What the—” 

“Never worry. You’re in good care,” Nat an- 
nounced. 

Nat felt, for the first time now, that the use of 
a revolver was absolutely necessary, so he withdrew 
the pistol, commanding them to raise their hands. 

“Make an outcry, and you’ll be sorry for it.” 

“I demand to know for what reason you fel- 
lows are handling us like this ?” 

“I really do feel sorry that you men are so igno- 
rant of this matter,” said Nat with a peculiar grin 
on his face. 

“We demand to know !” 


40 


^^The Hero Of The Wesf’ 


The boys refused to talk further with them, de- 
manding them to retrace their footsteps back to the 
entrance of the cave. 

Outside the cave they halted. 

“Now, see here, we brought you skunks here to 
get some information; and expect to get straight- 
forward, intelligent answers, do you understand?” 

“Exactly ; but you shall learn nothing from me,” 
responded Fulton. 

“Nor I,” went on Greely. 

“Perhaps we shall.” 

“I don’t think so,” Fulton said, with determina- 
tion. 

“Do you fellows acknowledge the fact that 
you’re entirely under our control?” 

“Yes; but that is no reason why we are to tell 
all we know!” 

“Immediately tell us what your objects are in 
trying to get possession of the papers, which are 
now, of course, in our holding.” 

This instantly aroused the two men under guard, 
as they still thought they had the deeds, and with- 
out mental control, Greely began searching his 
pockets. 

“Er — er — we’ve never had or seen the papers 
mentioned, sir,” and turning toward his crony, 
grinned, saying: — “Sorry we’re in the presence of 
such ill-characters as these, pard, but I guess Fate 
has decided to tickle us a bit. This also is quite a 
joke, eh?” 


^^The Hero Of The WesH 


41 


“Quite serious from our standpoint, therefore, 
we’d like to have an answer right now !” 

This time Nat possessed sufficient determina- 
tion, both in eye and speech as to produce a feeling 
within Greely’s and Fulton’s hearts that was for 
from being pleasant. At last they became aware of 
the fact that they were no longer being played with 
as mere children; arguing like children. Still they 
did argue, one disputing the other’s word, until at 
length Greely and Fulton were made to state their 
story as it had been arranged. 

“ — and it was when your father was camping 
out near Lake Bristol eighteen years ago that he 
was unexpectedly attacked one night, and murder- 
ed before he really comprehended what had even 
happened. At the time I was employed as sten- 
ographer at Lawyer Morgan’s office, and when you 
brought the papers up to him for examination and 
corrections, I at once remembered that this man, 
Bradford, was willing to pay a high price for the 
deliverance of these very documents, 

“Now, from that time until this I and my part- 
ner, who I later received as my assistant, have been 
trying to get hold of them, but seemingly I have 
not been able to locate you until recently; even 
then luck would refuse to come our way, but — ” 

“Is that the man that was my father’s partner 
up in the Youkon country; he who played friend 
for over ten long years? The man that lured father 


42 


^‘The Hero Of The West” 


into destruction, and later tried to swindle from 
him the tiny fortune he did find in late years ? God ! 
Let destruction fall upon him!’ 

“Where is this Bradfod now?” asked Ray of 
Greely. 

“I reckon he’s still in New York.” 

“I demand you under law to accompany us to 
the place, and unless you do, we’ll have you strung 
to the highest desert tree around here, do you un- 
derstand ?” 

He did ! 

This was agreed to and there the conversation 
was brought to a close, and the boys, replacing 
their revolvers, started back with the other men to 
the boys’ cabin. For quite a while they traveled the 
trail. ’Twas nearly six o’clock when they turned 
into a field that stretched up to one side of the cabin 
and through this they went, presently arriving at 
the little shack. 


CHAPTER VII. 

On An Important Mission. 

“Well, I guess we’ll start in the morning,” an- 
nounced Nat, after they had finished a wholesome 
supper. 

No one in the group answered to this, but the nod 
of the head Was sufficient to show that they heard, 
and the wink of the eye, and smile on the face was 
also enough to describe their happiness. 


^^The Hero Of The West” 43 


An hour later they‘ turned in.’ As the men laid 
there each in his little bunk, the flickering light 
from the fireplace lit the walls and ceiling, pictur- 
ing mysterious shadows gone by. It was rather 
still on the interior of the hut, the only noise be- 
ing the crackling of the burning wood in the fire- 
place, while, from without, came the prolonged 
barking and howling of some famished wolf, as he 
prowled sneakily about. This noise actually an- 
noyed Greely and Fulton, but to the boys it was 
filled with that sort of wild spirit, which had al- 
ways made them enjoy the West and its ways. 
While in the midst of briefly collecting the plans of 
the coming day, Nat followed the others into Nap- 
land. 

The excitement of the coming day made them 
wake early, and within two hours after they had 
‘reported,^ they were ready for the journey. 

“Well, gents,” Nat said, as Ray came up to them 
with the horses, two of the beasts having returned 
after they had been left back on the range early 
that morning. “I guess we’re off.” 

The bronchos moved off at a fair gait. They 
had been subdued by recent experiences, and per- 
haps, they realized, too, that their riders were 
leaving the land of bears and wolves on their way 
to civilization. The riders turned once in the sad- 
dle, looking back at the little cabin. Presently, 
they turned into a side trail and the hut was lost 
from sight. 


44 ‘^The Hero Of The West” 


'‘What time be it, son?” questioned Fulton of 
Nat. 

“Ten,” was the curt reply. 

^ ^ ^ 

Soon they arrived at the station. They all se- 
cured their tickets, after which they turned over 
their horses to Deacon Bushnal of Kelso, who had 
promised to care for them until the boys should re- 
turn again. 

“I reckon wedl be back in a few weeks, sir.” 

“All right, boys. Til do my part.” 

Thereupon they left. 

It was just as they ascended the platform of the 
station, that the Northern express rolled up. The 
big locomotive seemed rather proud of its strength, 
and with sudden growls and snarls of steam it pro- 
tested at being stopped; but nevertheless the great 
iron-horse was slowing down when it passed the 
station. Slower still the coaches went by. 

After the passengers had alighted, the four of 
our acquaintances boarded. 

“Al-1- a-b-o-a-r-d !” came from the hoarse con- 
ductor, as he waved his hand, signaling the en- 
gineer. 

His resonant voice echoed down the train, and 
then with a powerful puff from the engine, the 
wheels again revolved. The porter holding a tip in 
his fingers, leaped back into the platform of his 
coach. 


^^The Hero Of The WesH 45 


“Here she goes, boys!” Fulton chuckled, as the 
train gathered momentum. 

^ ^ Hi * sjs 

“Greely,” spoke Nat, as they rounded a corner 

and stood before Bradford’s house in New York, 
“You had better speak with the fellow first and get 
all you can out of him; then we’ll enter in five or 
ten minutes later.” 

“Very well, sir.” 

Thereupon he left the little group, walked up the 
steps and knocked on the door. The boys and 
Fulton went in search of an officer. In a little 
while, however, they were again back, this time 
meeting Bradford and Greely as they were com- 
ing onto the street. 

“Good morning, Mr. Bradford!” vociferated 
Fulton, pretendingingly. 

“Well, you here, too?” 

“It looks very much so, doesn’t it?” 

Almost instantaneously Nat, Ray and two offi- 
cers stepped up, surrounding Bradford. The latter 
lost practically all his senses for a few moments. 

“Ah, strangers, wish to see a gentleman or just 
looking for trouble?” 

“Neither; but we are looking for a cur they call 
Bradford!” Nat whispered with emphasis, his eyes 
meeting Bradford’s squarely. “I presume you’re 
the person — if so we are ready to speak with you 
on private matters.” 


46 ^^The Hero Of The West” 


“Ha, ha — this really is a practical joke,” said 
Bradford, sneakily, positive that Greely and Ful- 
ton were his friends. 

“You fool, you lie faster than you can run !” 

“Kindly come inside, and I’ll be more than glad 
to speak with you fellows.” And he turned. 

“Now, what have you to say?” asked Bradford, 
after they had entered. 

“To me, it seems absolutely unnecessary that I 
state my errand, but as I am speaking to you, I 
reckon it’s my duty. Well, in the first place, I 
want you to tell us your reason for having had my 
father murdered, and I want an answer mighty 
quick, too!” 

“Oh, my, man,” Bradford said, then. “You fel- 
lows are actually off your track ! I don’t know your 
father!” 

“What!” ejaculated Greely, rising from a chair 
in which he had been sitting. “Don’t I well remem- 
ber the day you sent Fulton and I out to find this 
young man’s father, and murder him if chances 
were all in course? Answer me!” 

Bradford rose, too, springing toward Greely as 
if mad. 

“I’ll learn you to give away my — ” 

“Hold on here, now, Bradford!” called out one 
of the policemen, as he drew his revolver, “You 
had better come with us.” 


Hero Of The West” 


47 


Mr. Bradford was handcuffed and led out of the 
shack, bound for a better abode. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Boys Find Trouble. 

Later, Bradford was brought to the police sta- 
tion, and placed under strict care of government 
authorities at Sing Sing. 

The four men remained in the city for a week, 
taking in all the sights of a city. Then Greely and 
Fulton returned to Kelso with the boys. 

jK sh sj: ^ * 5}: 

‘‘Kelso! Kelso!’’ 

The trainman began hoarsely shouting the name 
of the Idaho town. Swiftly, the long dust-covered 
train rolled imposingly into Kelso, very swift, in 
fact, as if it did not wish to tarry long in that God- 
forsaken place. Presently, the brakes ground down 
to a delicate squeaking. 

“Back again, boys!” shouted Fulton, as he stuck 
out his head from the window. The train was 
momentarily decreasing in speed, but his eye caught 
nothing more suggestive than that which was there 
before their leaving. Then the veteran conductor 
passed by, going toward the front of the coach. 

jit ^ :{« * * * 

“Don’t shoot ! Don’t shoot !” 

A neatly dressed, fine-looking man, a tenderfoot 
apparently, plumped squarely down upon his knees 
in the thick, white dust, with his hands clasped in 


48 


^‘The Hero Of The West” 


entreaty above his head. Above him stood a figure 
of the man who had so suddenly emerged from the 
saloon door. A crowd stood some distance off 
watching the affair. Presently, a girl of about 
twenty, ran quickly up to the swarthy Mexican, 
and with a hysteric aspect, gurgled out a few 
pleading words: “Please, Mr., don’t shoot dad — 
I’ll give—” 

The tormentor proved to be a dark, ugly man, 
crowned with a silver-braded sombrero, the huge 
brim partly concealing the ignorant, brutish de- 
tails of a full-blooded Mexican. 

“Well, I’ll be danged, if it isn’t that little pro- 
fessor of Harvard!” cried Nat, as he ran up and 
joined the enthusiastical crowd, later pushing his 
way to the side of the two men, and the pleading 
girl. “And, by George, if it isn’t Gladys, too! Why 
where in the world did you — ” 

“What’re you here for, you d — tenderfoots?” 
demanded the Spanish-American, angrily. “Run 
along before you get hurt.” 

Then the Mexican turned toward Brandom again 
and ordered him to kneel for the second time. This 
made Gladys utterly useless, even to herself. She 
turned pale, and while in the act of fainting, her 
sister rushed to her side. “Oh, Marcella, will he 
shoot papa?” 

“Don’t do it, old boy,” cried Nat to the professor. 

“HE will or YOU will!” thundered the Mexican 
in fitful anger. 


^^The Hero Of The Wesf’ 49 


The latter raised his pistol menacingly. But at 
the same instant a foot projected between the Mex- 
ican’s legs. The gaudily garbed bully fell to the 
ground cursing. 

“Good boy, Ray,” muttered Nat, as he saw his 
partner act. 

The bully crawled off to one side and threw an 
ugly glance at Ray, at the same time reminding: 
“I’ll show you what Garcia Trouja can do! He 
never forgets an insult, nor forgives an injury!” 

At that the Mexican slunk back of some bushes 
along the road, and was lost from sight. 

“Where on earth did you spring in from, Mr. 
Brandom, and I see you brought the girls with you, 
that—” 

“Oh, yes,” he answered shakingly. “When they 
heard you fellows were out here, I had no rest till 
I consented that they might come along. But, say, 
Nat, don’t you think that fellow was kind of ugly 
toward me?” 

“That’s the nature of the brute, he treats all 
alike.” 

By this time Gladys was feeling a bit better, and 
though quite weak yet, she tried her best to get to 
her father’s side. 

“Nathan, I don’t know what I’ll ever be able to 
do to repay you for what you have done for us this 
day. Papa is — ” 

“I did such an insignificant part — you had better 
hand Ray about a teaspoonful of that ‘hero-salve,’ 


50 


The Hero Of The Wesf’ 


I know he deserves it,” suggested Nat. ‘‘At any 
rate, how about spending a few days at our cabin, 
while you’re out in these parts?” 

“Oh, papa — ” began Gladys, excitedly. 

“Yes, we surely appreciate the invitation and 
should love to spend a few days with you, but I have 
some business to attend to near Salt Bed and White 
Rock. Perhaps after this appointment, we may see 
our way clear to run up in these parts.” 

Just then the eastbound express rolled in, and 
with a steady and polite gesture of his tiny hand 
the professor and the girls bade the boys farewell. 
The boys stood watching them leave, board the 
train, and even beheld them as they waved from 
the train window. 

A few minutes later found the boys on their way 
home. During these few moments of excitement 
with the Mexican the New York men had been sent 
for the horses, which, as my readers will remember 
had been left at Deacon Bushnal’s place when the 
boys had left for the city. Now all four were again 
together, winding the trail back to the homestead 
over the ridge. 

“Let’s leave the creek here and turn northward,” 
suggested Nat. 

“Kiddie, you have got some sense, all right,” ap- 
proved Ray. “I guess that is the best thing to do. 
Anyhow, we’ve gone in this direction as far as we 
want to, and it’s time we were heading direct for 
home.” 


^^The Hero Of The West” 51 


Home! — Never before had the world held such a 
sweet sound, so pure and sweet for the boys as in 
this case. 

Presently, they neared the weather-beaten hut, 
and with a joyous motioning gesture of Nat’s hand, 
he lifted his hat, waved it high in the air, and with 
a turgid shout, he broke the silence. They all seem- 
ed to possess the same feeling, and with a gay heart 
each one kicked his horse’s sides, they rode on- 
ward toward the cabin. 

“Whoa ! Whoa, boy !’” 

They dismounted and removing the horses’ sad- 
dles, they turned them down the back lane, and frol- 
icsomely the beasts raced toward the corral, a big 
enclosure, about an acre in extent, in the center of 
which was a fenced haystack. 

After making a scanty, but apprizing, meal, Nat 
began a peculiar discussion on a subject never be- 
fore mentioned. For a long time prior to his 
speaking, he had sat in thought amid the remainder 
of the group. 

“Boys, — I’ve been a-thinkin’ ever since we started 
for New York, about a certain thing, which. I’m 
sure will interest you all, and that is, I think you 
two men capable of staying this government con- 
tract out — this homestead deal I mean — while my 
chum and I go to Nevada where our gold mine is. 
There I expect to start the mine up again, and when 
we come home with a fortune, part of it belongs to 
you men,” lastly referring to the New York men. 


52 


niie Hero Of The WesH 


The plan actually came to pass in the coming few 
months, and on they went to meet failure or suc- 
cess! 


CHAPTER IX. 

The Escape From Prison. 

“Who might it be?” questioned a man with 
great anxiety in the fartherest corner of a little 
dingy cell. 

“Perhaps it’s the guard bringing us food,” re- 
turned a well known voice. 

But was it ? Surely no man of such a high stand- 
ing as guard would think of passing in such fashion 
through the corridor at this time of the day. Ah ! 
No — this person was evidently up to some mischief. 
The men within the cell advanced toward the barred 
door with caution, never turning their eyes from 
the black shapeless thing on the exterior. Who 
could it be? They continued to watch the moving 
figure, striving in vain to distinguish the particular 
one whose mysterious actions had lured them 
thither. 

“Had we better warn the jailor, Bradford?” sud- 
denly spoke out the new acquaintance. 

“By God. you shan’t 1” came the answer from the 
shadow on the exterior. “I’ve gotten this far — don’t 
spill the chance 1” 


^^The Hero Of The WesH 53 


To this Bradford became intensely interested. 
Then the shadow drew close to the door, and grip- 
ping the bars, raised himself to Bradford’s ear, and 
j.;j:ake : 

“Fll help you if you’ll only keep quiet!” And to 
that he fumbled a tiny, well-polished instrument to 
the man within. 

Bradford and Connels, his cellmate, lost no time 
in gaining the window, and though the light of day 
was unusually poor, they soon understood the usage 
of the contrivance which they now possessed. 
Bradford’s perplexed face instantly brightened, and 
after a short pause, he managed to collect his 
thoughts, which for the past few moments, had 
fairly gone astray. He hesitated, his face full of 
bewilderment. 

“Look out the window and tell me if you see any- 
one in sight, Dave,” the murderer ordered sternly. 

“I discern a guard near the fence and another one 
off to the north.” 

“Then what chance have we to escape, even if 
this saw happens to be in our possession?” 

“Why, man!” suggested Connels, rather ugly, 
“There’s scores of possibilities after dark.” 

Into Bradford’s eyes then came a gleam of satis- 
faction. 

Two hours later the men were sitting on the hard 
steel couch opposite the tiny window, thinking. The 
descending sun was pouring a flood of gold over the 


54 ^‘The Hero Of The Wes^ 


smooth floor. The nooks of this diffusive city were 
darkening quite rapidly. Beyond the Mississippian 
Divide the sun was yet shining its golden rays ter- 
rorizing some object on that endless, God- forsaken 
desert. Soon, there, too, the red of the western 
horizon grew pale, changing to a cold thin gray 
which blended into a darkness too dense for the 
naked eye. 

There was, however, considerable tramping out- 
side, for the prisoners of a safer reputation had been 
granted a parole and were just returning after a day 
of labor in the ‘yard.’ They were haggard and 
worn, miserable and discouraged; nothing seemed 
inviting to them. 

An hour dragged slowly on, and within a few 
moments Bradford and Connels took places at the 
window. Everything on the outside was dark now 
and not a moving figure save the ever-present guard, 
who passed beneath the window every now and then. 
Silence and that dreadful lonliness brooded every- 
where, with not so much as a breath of air whistling 
in through the window. 

“Move lively now, lad,” spoke Bradford. “And 
when I say ‘move’ don’t hesitate.” 

The speaker drew from his pocket the small saw 
and put it in use. The delecate ‘buzz-z-z-z’ came 
so smooth and faint that only those within twenty 
feet could perceive its meaning. The hole was bar- 
red by half a dozen rusty iron sticks set firmly in 


'‘The Hero Of The West” 55 


mortar and other substances which were decidedly 
secure. 

The early advancement of their task came slow 
and cautious, as they never knew what moment a 
guard or other officer might step up. This proved 
an awful nervous strain on both, but, still the 
thought of freedom aroused them to a state, which, 
by gun or knife, could not have stopped prisoners 
in their situation. 

After ten minutes of steady sawing and twist- 
ing, the men had succeeded in removing four bars, 
thus affording an opening large enough to permit 
the passage of a man’s body. 

“Now we’re off,” was the whisper. 

Bradford pulled himself up to the sill, turned and 
dropped outside. All seemed deserted about the 
place, so, he gave the promised whistle. Instant- 
ly Connels’ head appeared, then his body, and after 
a quick glace he, too, followed. There was a muf- 
fled grunt as he landed beside his cell-mate, but 
without once discussing their predicament, they 
made for the high fence to the right. The night 
was dark and picking their way through unknown 
paths was quite an affair. Once Connels fell, 
twisting his ankle, which, leaving him slightly in 
the rear, made the gloom of night seem greater to 
him. 

Luck evidently swung toward the fleeing men, 
for, just as they had cleared away the last bar of 
the four, some fifteen minutes previous, the dark 


56 ^^The Hero Of The West’’ 


guard had turned in persuit of the man from whom 
Bradford had received the tool, late that afternoon. 

j{c ^ * * 55= 

This man, Nixon, who for sixteen years, had 
been a permanent prisoner with the charge of mur- 
der against him, had found it exceedingly difficult 
to discover egress from this black, disagreeable 
hall. 

‘T shall conceal myself here, till the keeper 
chances to pass,” he had murmured to himself, as 
he crouched comfortably in a dark corner. “Per- 
haps he’ll open the door for ‘a superior.’ ” 

The hours which had floated on had found him 
still in the corner nodding sleepily. Soon there 
came a noise — a thump, — thump, — thump. Just 
then Bradford and Connels were making their es- 
cape, while Nixon lingered between life and death. 
The latter became impatient — probobly too impa- 
tient, for, while the man in the blue shirt slipped 
by, Nixon had risen, at once revealing his presence. 
With a tigar-like leap he was upon the officer, 
placing one hand over the other’s mouth and the 
other about his throat. Then tripping the keeper, 
they fell heavily to the floor. 

“Silence or your life!” said Nixon, and the fel- 
low heeded, for he never uttered a word. 

All this had happened in a minute, and in another 
minute the murderer was on his way to freedom. 
The figure never once stopped after that while 


^^The Hero Of The Wesr 57 


within the prison’s boundary, for, luckily, the night 
being dowdy, furnished gloomy background for 
the fleeing man. On he went, leaving the iron-gray 
building behind. Where his destination • was, he 
knew not — nor did that bother him to any great ex- 
tent, his main object being to escape. 

“Hi, there !” rang out a voice in the darkness. “A 
prisoner has broke — he’s headin’ West!” 

It was this shout which had called Maxwell from 
his post — only to make the path to freedom more 
translucent for Bradford and Connels. 

5js * * 5K 

“We’ve got to beat it now 1” whispered Dave. 

“Where to?” gasped the other, for climbing the 
tall fence had deprived him of his wind. 

“Any direction — only, let’s get out of this hole.” 

Freedom was now within their clutches, but were 
they able to retain it ? Down a long irregular street 
they fled, entering an alley and were soon lost from 
sight. 

“Do you suppose they are following us?” asked 
Dave Connels, with some anxiety. 

“Perhaps,” was the brief answer. 

A light drizzly rain was now falling, and the 
shiny pavements glistened, making the gliding ve- 
hicles but a mere part of a common spectacle. The 
lights on the corners threw peculiar gleams on the 
street below. For some hours they roamed about 
the metropolis, hoping to find someone from whom 


58 "The Hero Of The Wesf' 


reliable information could be acquired. But no one 
revealed themselves. During these few hours which 
had passed they had succeeded in obtaining each 
a suit of clothes from one of Connels’ friends, so 
now they pushed onward, more steadily in walk and 
thought. Suddenly they passed into a side street, 
and were again lost from sight amid the darkness. 

‘‘We must be in the vicinity of the West Shore 
Railway,” proclaimed one of the men in a low 
voice. 

“That’s exactly my idea.” 

“Well,” returned Bradford, “I don’t directly 
fancy this city as an ideal hiding place, and to my 
conception, I feel rather impulsed to advise you 
that we had better part, or if you will consider my 
plan, we must both leave the city this very night, 
for undoubtedly by morning all policemen in New 
York will be on the lookout for us.” 

“But where are we to go?” 

“I shall — what’s that?” questioned Bradford, 
tugging at his companion’s sleeve. 

Soon he beheld a locomotive glide by, intercept- 
ing the long black avenue. Its headlight shone bril- 
liantly ahead, producing that radient light, which 
many times has confused objects in its path. With- 
out the least hesitation the men made for the slow- 
moving train, which crept toward some distant 
Western town. 


''The Hero Of The Wesf’ 


59 


CHAPTER X. 

The Robbery at "Kiwatchec Cannon.” 

Night shadov/s had fallen; the men of the “Gold 
Dust Mine” regions were slowly returning to their 
homes. Work in those parts was prosperous at 
this time; at least, the number of camps in the 
foothills showed it, for, smoke was rising from 
nearly every smoke stack visible. Men and their 
families from every state in the union were there, 
shouldering the pick and the shovel. Here and 
there, small shanties with their purple background 
of the rolling mountain, revealed themselves to the 
eyes of men to whom the field-glass was sharing an 
important part. 

There was one particular concern in the mining 
vicinity, now, to whom rnore than little appreciation 
was being rendered. Affairs of the past had been 
handled with such slovenliness that modern con- 
veniences had never found way to this newly dis- 
covered world of barren, desolate plains, until these 
late arrivals came to rearrange matters as they 
should have been under former managers It was 
the Shawville & Lost River Gold Mine of the Gold 
Dust district in Elko County. Just south of the 
camp ran the well known divide between the Great 
Basin of the waters of the Columbia, and on the 
north, the mining town. White Rock, spread its 
shabby dullness under the gray twilight. 


60 ^‘The Hero Of The West’' 


White Rock, similar to nearly all mining towns 
of its size and class, was unusually dull during the 
hours of daylight, but soon after darkness fell this 
solemnity seemed to die away, for when the scat- 
tered miners came swarming out from nearby hills, 
clustering in throngs about saloon doors, there rose 
from the town a multitude of various character- 
istics from a sea of stagnant scum. 

The Shawville & Lost River Mine ran for ap- 
proximitely three-quarters of a mile into Mount 
Kellen, whose summit terminated some six to eight 
thousand feet above the level of the sea. At the 
entrance of the shaft stood the cage, a mighty con- 
trivance applied only when something was to be 
hoisted or lowered from the mouth to the lower 
channels. The whim stood directly to the left. 
From this, extended a chute, running out over one 
hundred yards beyond the entrance. This was sup- 
ported by great upright beams, which at the end of 
the track rose to an elevation of fifty to sixty feet 
above the sloping hillside. The drift itself was a 
dark underground passage, through which pierced 
the small steel cars on their way to the dump. Firm 
lagging concealed the sides, while at the base of the 
cribbing lay the sluice filled with torpid water. 

A month had passed since the meeting with the 
professor and his daughters at the railway station, 
but that time had been long since forgotten. The 
evening before, the old stage. No. 4, had brought 


"T/z^ Hero Of The WestT 


61 


to this little God-forsaken place these three strang- 
ers — strangers at least to White Rock. They were 
guests at the Henderson cabin, and that evening 
while the professor was out in the clearing doing 
some work pertending to his laboratory for the 
coming year, the young folks decided to wend their 
way toward White Rock to spend the evening at 
the Golden Nugget. 

It might be well to here inform the reader that 
while the boys were attending Harvard their ac- 
quaintance with the girls had become rather formal. 
Many times Nat and Ray both had thought of pro- 
posing but never had they plucked up enough cour- 
age to present the question. Now, however, events 
had so occurred as to warrant a few moments at 
least for a quiet talk, so now we meet them along 
the road, of course, in no great hurry to reach 
White Rock. 

“Yes, but— er— er” 

“Yes, don’t you know, it reminds me so much 
of the days when we strolled on that beautiful 
campus back — ” 

“But, Marcella, I say — er — er — will you — ” 

“No, I don’t think it would be fair to leave Na- 
than and Gladys behind in this awful dark and 
lonely place. I know Gladys would be frightened 
to death. 1 — ” 

“No, no; I mean, my little girl, will — will — you 
marry me?” 


62 


^‘The Hero Of The West/’ 


“Why, Raymond, I would if I were a minister, 
but now you’ll have to go elsewhere.” was the girl’s 
witty reply. 

“I mean,” he said simply, “will you be my wife?” 

“Oh, oh !” she blurted out, “I have thought some 
of that myself, but — but of course, I have to ask 
papa.” 

Ray felt the little throb, the tremulous emotion 
pulling gently at that cord somewhere within his 
breast. He really wanted to langh, cry — every- 
thing, but he remembered that Nat and Gladys were 
not far behind, so he let the conversation on this 
subject drop right here. Presently, they heard a 
mumbling from the black distance at their rear. 

“Come, little girl,” broke in Ray softly, “Let’s 
get behind this tree, and evesdrop on that chum of 
mine — I’ve an idea they’re up to something, too.” 

“Why, — why, Nathan, you seem to daze me — al- 
though, you did so much for us the ether day, I 
almost feel it my duty to grant your desire, if I may 
call it so, but I must ask dad first, you know, but 
I’m—” 

“Yes, and I’d do it over again if Garcia were 
here !” he snapped, for his love for the Mexican was 
not any too great. 

By this time they were beyond hearing, so Ray 
and Marcella returned to the road, both with broad 
smiles on their faces. 

“It looks like thery’re in for business, alright. I 
only wish we were.” 


^^The Hero Of The WestT 


63 


“We are, Ray,” she interrupted, quickly. “You’re 
too pessimistic.” 

At length they arrived at the little western town 
of White Rock, nestled snuggly under a blue heaven 
of twinkling stars. Although, night shadows hung 
low over the town, tulmultous merriment reigned 
unmastered. From the many small shacks streamed 
forth that little flickering light of the oil lamp 
through the unglazed window. In fact, that little 
town was at its best that night, the stream of life 
flowing too freely. Everyone seemed to be doing 
something. Though everything seemed wicked, 
there was one place, at least, where the 
tenderfoot could assure himself of a bit of safety, 
and that was within the walls of the Golden Nug- 
get. Of course, the card room and bar room was 
there, too, but one must remember that that is an 
understood fact in the west. 

“What’s on ter night. Red?” came from an old 
plainsman, who had ventured into town. 

“Nothin’ much,” was the return. “ ’Cept over at 
the Nugget, thery’re recitin’ thet robbery thet was 
pulled off at Kowatchee Canyon early this morning, 
and I dare say thet — ” 

“By God, man! You don’t mean Jerry’s stage 
from Mountain City, do you?” gasped the old man, 
staggering. “I had a wallet containing fifty thous- 
and dollars in Jerry’s care!” 

“And you came in ter get it to-night?” 


64 


^^The Hero Of The WestT 


“Why, yes!’’ 

“Well, I’m afraid you’ll not get that money back 
unless you pin the bandits to a tree and pocket the 
gold yourself.” 

“ — and what happened to Jerry?” 

The other shook his head, afraid to reply. 

“Speak, you hound! Where is he?” 

“Sam, I reckon he must have been murdered,” 
began the man, “for the bosses returned without 
their jehu, and under the seat was a note thet — ” 

But he did not get to finish, for the old plainsman, 
Sam Butler by name, was too violent to absorb all 
this news, not knowing whether it was coming from 
a reliable source or not. Without the least sign of 
farewell, he had hurried off to the Golden Nugget. 
It had been a marvelous change to Butler. Soon he 
reached the Goiden Nugget, and swinging up the 
wooden steps, he entered. At one end of the long 
room sat the boys with Gladys and Marcella at their 
sides. Butler at once directed his footsteps toward 
this little group. 

“Evening, boys — ” began Butler, trying in vain 
to remain as cool as possible. 

“Hello, Butler,” was the reply, as Nathan rose 
from his chair. “Meet our old school pals. Miss 
Gladys and Miss Marcella Brandon, Mr. Sam But- 
ler.” 

“Ah — er — very glad ter have met you,” the old 
man gurgled out. “But, boys, is it true that old 
Jerry’s stage was robbed this morning?” 


‘^The Hero Of The West.” 


65 


‘‘I’m afraid it is,” returned the boy, slowly. 

“My God! Then I’ve been robbed!” 

“Robbed?” questioned Nat, leaning hysterically 
over the table, and peering squarely into the old 
man’s eyes. 

He did not answer, for just then the little pro- 
fessor stepped in the door. At once he was in the 
midst of the little crowd. 

After things became quiet again, Sam told the 
whole story under frequent questioning. Never be- 
fore had they heard of such a large amount of 
mone}^ being stolen from a westerner; never had 
they understood that such an immense amount of 
money had ever been possessed by a plainsman of 
the west. 

“Have a drink, gentlemen!” the old man ended, 
his fist crashing the table as he called the bar- 
tender. 

At once he received the bottle, and in a few 
minutes had gulped it down. Presently, his head 
began to sway, his eyes dream, and before long his 
head was hidden in his arms on the table. There 
he lay sodden in a stupor, his thoughts soaring like 
a flake in a blizzard; his dreams of wealth were 
gone. 

The little group with whom Sam Butler had been 
talking only a few moments previous were now en- 
joying a game of Parchesi at one of the tables far- 
ther down the long asile. 


66 


^‘The Hero Of The WestT 


Butler must have slept for some time, for when 
he did awaken the hour was nearly eleven. Two 
strangers sat beside him eyeing him intensely when 
he raised his head. The one to his right was a man 
of brutish features, white glowing teeth, yellowish 
skin, and a pair of black piercing eyes. The other 
individual possesed keener characteristics, yet, 
from the viewpoint of hilarity they were both very 
well matched. One, probably, had underwent a more 
severe discipline, and accordingly attained a higher 
standard, but still they owned a mysterious past, 
that much was evident from their appearance. 

“A game — what do you say ?” proclaimed the 
man on his right. 

Then, the slight expression of astonishment faded 
from Butler’s eyes. Something which had hidden 
itself behind the curtain of sleep, camie suddenly 
back to haunt him, the thought of having lost all his 
money. 

“No, boys,” he managed to say. “I’ve been rob- 
bed — robbed of all that I possessed in the world.” 

“Huh, don’t quite understand,” said the man to 
his right. “I rekon it wouldn’t hurt you much to ex- 
plain, would it?” 

“Well,” began Sam, “To start the story is not so 
hard, but the finish is a mystery to me. You see, 
I was once a New York broker, and possessed 
with all luxuries that money could buy. I was a 
man of unusual snappy standing ’mongst my fellow- 


Hero Of The WestT 


67 


men, and stood quite high in society. This sort of 
life I continued for many years, until at last my 
health failed me, and I was compelled to seek 
Western climates. Those day, boys, were of the 
best, for already I was fairly off, owner of some 
sixty thousand of dollars in clear silver.’’ Then 
Butler stopped, his eyes staring at some invisable 
obect, his fingers tapping the table nervously, and 
he gulped down something which seemed threaten- 
ing to choke him. ‘‘At the time of my leaving New 
York, it had not occurred to me that withdrawing 
the money from tlie bank had been necessary in my 
case, so just the other week a proposition confront- 
ed me, requiring an enormous amount of money, 
and it was for this reason that I relinquished my 
share from the New York bank. A man by the 
name of Pearsons was chosen to convey the packet 
of bills to Mountain City, and from there old Jerry 
Munson, the stage pilot, was to take it.” By this 
time his eyes were set, his outstretched hands 
clinching the edge of the table, and his jaws mov- 
ing spasmodically. “Well, old Munson never show- 
ed up, and I’ve heard from several that he was 
murdered, and my money stolen, but I — ” 

“Now, see here, old man,” burst in one of the 
men, “We’re not here to discuss your affairs, and if 
3^011 can’t give us a game, we’ll have to be on our 
way.” 

“D — you, nobody’s asking you to listen, are 
they?” 


68 


^'The Hero Of The West/' 


“Well, what do you say?” reminded the other. 
“Are you in tor a game?” 

“Let’s go. What limit?” 

“As to yours?” 

“Fifty dollars to start with.” 

Butler ran the cards carelessly through his large 
lingers, staring squarely into his opponents’ eyes. 
There sat the three men all of whom were sharing 
their tiny fortunes with magnificent Fate. The 
game started, each one awaiting his turn to slap 
the card that would bring the sublime heap to him. 

“Good God, man! What’s that you’re doin’ un- 
der the table?” And Butler drew his revolver. 

“None of that in here, now, Butler,” roared 
the bar-tender, as he saw the old man whip out 
the weapon. “I’ll be danged if I’m going to have a 
man killed in this joint.” 

“Nor is a cheat going to get the very last red 
copper I’ve got, either,” he thundered back. 

This little excitement had drawn the crowd to 
this particular table, and as usual Nat and Ray were 
there to give assistance. The girls and the Pro- 
fessor stood frightened in one corner when the 
boys came back, and from that time on that inter- 
esting game of Parchesi was left unfinished. It 
was not long, however, before the Professor and 
his daughters left for the Henderson cabin, while 
the two boys remained to see the fun out. The Pro- 
fessor was a trifle doubtful as to the road, but he 
decided to find his way as best he could. Though 


^^Thc Hero Of The Westr 69 


the Professor was a small man, the girls felt very 
confident in his ability of caring for them, even if 
necessity should arise to warrant the play of a gun. 

The long hours seemed like days to the three men 
who dealt the cards with cautiousness. The stakes 
gradually increased in value until at length Butler 
was worth some ten thousand of dollars. A cun- 
ning smile crept over Sam’s face as he beheld the 
size of the rolls which were so gaudily displayed by 
the strangers. He now felt sure that his money 
was returning. Was it? Presently, the stakes flew 
up another notch. But now the two strangers so- 
bered. Their hands moved mechanically, their 
eyes never once glanced at the crowd which stood 
over them. What awful moments of strain. Again 
it was Butler’s turn to play — his last card — but, was 
he prepared ? They knew only too well that his move 
.would tell the tale. One — two — three. He moved! 

'‘Gentlemen!” spoke Sam. ‘T regret to announce 
that you lose — ” And to that the old man rose. 

Then in an instant one of the men rose, pulled 
his black revolver, and backed up to the door. 

“Come, pard,” he growled, “Let’s see how much 
of that gold you can clear up !” 

It was not long, however, before the strangers 
were gone, gone in a solid mass of blackness outside. 
The White Rock men poured from the saloon, and 
they, too, seizing their ponies, circled round until 
they hit the trail over which the unknown men were 
making their escape. 


70 


^'The Hero Of The West." 


Though Nat and his chum had come to town 
without the horses, they had been successful enough 
to secure the bartender’s two black mares, and it was 
when they were dashing down the narrow trail on 
the outskirts of the town that Nat broke out : 
‘'Boys, if we hit this trail good and hard, we’ll 
reach the rim of the desert before those black 
devils !” 

And thus it was that the strangers left the little 
mining town of White Rock to live or to die. 


CHAPTER XI. 

The Strangers' Identification. 

The heavens lightned as the big round sun peeped 
blazingly over the distant mountain at their rear. 
Now they stood on a little ridge that overlooked 
the terrorizing desert, which streatched out in great 
space, gradually melting into a horizon of sea blue. 
The only moving objects of this level expanse were 
two small specks far off in, the , hazy distance. Al- 
ready, if we should have been out there, we would 
have easily observed that the riders showed sigiis 
of weariness. Their animals continued slowly on- 
ward, tired and unwilling, their heavy heads droop- 
ing low. For some time the two men talked in a 
low running conversation, but. at length it canie in 
mere whispers. 


n^he Hero Of The WestT 


71 


By this time they realized that they had been 
fools to attempt to cross the desert at sun rise, and 
that they should have waited until nightfall, but, 
of course, the thought of being captured by a 
crazed mob had impelled them to depart with great 
haste. The sun was rising higher and higher every 
moment, and it was not long before their throats 
seemed parched. Good God, was night never com- 
ing? Was that blistering sun never going down? 
They hung withered in their saddles, their eyes 
peering strangely ahead into that something which 
seemed to sway in the air before them. It was 
that ever-present lure — the lure of the desert. Sud- 
denly there came a groan and one of the horses 
fell from exhaustion. The rider’s companion did 
hot seem moved in the least, his only thought be- 
ing to cross that desert while his steed possessed 
ample strength. It was not long, however, before 
his horse fell, too, but by that time he hardly dis- 
cerned what had happened. He did not struggle 
against the heat now as he lay motionless on the 
white sand beside his horse. Still, he felt confident 
that his last moments had come. Then rising to a 
sitting posture, he drew from the pocket of his plaid 
shirt, a stubby pencil, and dragging himself over to 
where his horse had fallen he wrote a few words 
on the shiny leather saddle. He grasped . the pom- 
mel Sternly as he wrote with unsteady hand. He 
wrote, wrote. Would he ever finish that long 
story? He was determined that no misunderstand- 


72 


^^The Hero Of The West/' 


ing should ever arise as to his identity, nor that the 
blame for his black deeds be cast upon another 
man’s shoulders. 

He was not at this task a great while, however, 
yet, as I have said, to his estimation it seemed 
quite lengthy. Perhaps this was due to the fact that 
he was longing for that eternal rest — the rest that 
intercepts all suffering. Never, for an instant, did 
he lift his pencil to think or construe over that 
which had been written, nor was he at loss for 
more words. It was probably because of his fre- 
quent comtemplation on the matter that words came 
so freely and with such precision. 

Far to the south, a shapeless speck moved across 
the brown, open waste in search of two individuals. 
Had we been at close range, we might have de- 
scribed the band as a dejected, discouraged lot, 
ready to turn back to “God’s Country” at the word 
of command. 

“God! I’m glad we’ve got enough water with us, 
— I wonder how those two desert rats are watering 
themselves out here?” 

“Sam,” returned Nat Henderson, who was rid- 
ing beside the old plainsman, “I suppose your mon- 
ey is quenching their thirst.” 

The old man grinned, but soon his face wore that 
same old frown. 

“I reckon we’ve gone as far as we dare, Sam,” 
ventured forth one of the men in the group. 
“Hadn’t we better turn?” 


^^The Hero Of The WestT 73 


The leader was not moved a particle by this 
suggestion, his eyes still scanned the vast, veiled 
distance. His resolute mind forbade him to turn — 
to turn cowardly from death. Was he to slink 
away without restoring his money just because 
heat cautioned? No! And to that his teeth snap- 
ped, glued together by the firmest determination. 
He raised his hand over his eyes, partially shading 
them from the blinding sun, but could see nothing. 

Suddenly they came upon a small ridge or knowll 
and this afforded an excellent observation of the 
immediate vicinity. Again he raised his large hand 
to his eyes, and as he did so he beheld two dark 
spots against the yellow sand background far away. 
Instantly he drew the boys’ attention to the matter, 
spurred his exhausted steed into an easy trot, and 
drew up close to the designated place. He uttered 
a few inaudible words as he leaned forward over 
the pommel, staring anxiously down in his direct 
front. Soon he swung from out the saddle, ex- 
claiming: “We’ve got the devils, after all!” 

Butler drew his ominous revolver, as did the 
others, and held it poised in his right hand in case 
he should be obliged to use it. Bending slightly for- 
ward, his eyes came suddenly in contact with some- 
thing strange — something he had never dreamt of 
seeing at this time. It was a message on the sad- 
dle. Strangely, as it may seem, his revolver drop- 
ped, his lips parted, and directing his quivering 


74 


niie Hero Of The Westr 


hand to the rude slate, he employed his forefinger 
as guide from word to word as he read : 

“I have led the life of a criminal; I have 
plundered and robbed. I have had my punish- 
ment, 1 have had my rewards, and thank God 
I’m getting my last one now. The fifty thou- 
sand dollars which you find in my blouse be- 
longs to Samuel Butler. It was taken from old 
Munson, the stage pilot.” 

‘‘Unwillingly yours, 

“Winston Morgul Simmerton, Alias 
Seymore L. Bradford. 

Butler became intensely interested as he read and 
re-read the note, looking inquiringly at the men 
who sat sullenly upon their steeds above him. He 
knew that this was no uncommon or impossible 
tragedy of the West, but still the conception of him 
being involved made it appear even more ghastly. 

“Henderson, Boswell, McCarthy — little help 
here. See whaBs in his possession.” 

The two boys and the little Irishman at once 
complied to orders, dismounting and making their 
way to where Bradford lay. As Nat turned him 
face-upward there came a sudden recollection as to 
the mart's identity. Those piercing eyes which 
Nat h^d met before were now set and glassy; his 
face unshaven, but already bronzed by a western 
sun. And that scar — the scar on the left hand, in- 
terpreting to the world that, perhaps, a knife in an 


^^The Hero Of The IVestT 


75 


op])onent’s hand had flashed too freely. Then his 
eyes shifted to the writing on the saddle. Instantly 
Nat stood erect, grasped Ray by the wrist, pointing 
violently to the dead body. 

“Good God!” in one long sigh. “I didn’t recog- 
nize the man when he played that game of cards 
with you, Butler. Had I known it was Bradford, 
I would — but, but,” and Nat stepped back, gritting 
his teeth and peering into space. “He’s my — my un- 
cle, Winston Simmerton!” 

“Yis, and be Gad, he’s me enemy,” broke in the 
Irishman, with considerable alacrity, walking brisk- 
ly toward the body. “I ’member well, me b’y, when 
that lobster took a dollar from me wife — ^yes, sir — 
came right up to her and snatched it as beeg as you 
please. If Patrick had only been there, he’d fixed 
him. But thin I was in that pretty saloon just — ” 

“Now, see here, McCarthy, we don’t care to hear 
your life history. Lay hold, and help the boys get 
this corps on the horse.” By this time Butler had 
become indignant. 

Some moments later they had prepared a rude 
litter of strong blankets fastened between two 
horses, and wound about the saddle pommels. With- 
in this the lifeless bodies were placed, and as they 
moved off it swayed gently to the measure of the 
horses^ tread. 

Somewhere in this book I must write a paragraph 
or two exclusively about the desert, its many char- 
acteristics and discredits. The desert as a place to 


^^Thc Hero Of The WestT 


/ > 


live in is one of the salubrious on earth. The very 
same climatic features which renders it sterile gives 
to its wonderful air a purity nowhere else to be 
found. At first the desert horrifies the tourist, but 
to the man who has dwelt in it for some time it is 
nothing less than a life-giving air, a perfect pano- 
rama of the world. It is a place of fortune, of 
promise. It is a crystal in which you see your fu- 
ture. For miles and miles, like a dainty pencil line 
drawn across the face of the desert, winds the 
old, old Comanche and Apache trails, coiling from 
water-hole to water-hole. Were it not for these 
thread-like trails connecting different water places, 
the desert probably would be impassable, for the 
priceless water is life when out on that vast sea 
where water in reality is nothing more than sand. 

In the desert, water is king! Without it, price- 
less ore is but as dross ; fertile soils as worthless as 
ashes. The invisible Evil which soares in the air 
laughs at the tiny thing that ventures forth upon 
this expanse, spitting and defying: “You spite me 
from your green meadow, now it’s my turn to the 
spiting, sir!” And, indeed, he does! 

CHAPTER XIL 

Good-bye to ''The Sage-Brush State T 

Several weeks Hed; the funeral of the two men 
was over. They had been hurried in the old cem- 
etery south of White Rock. 


”The Hero Of The IVest: 


17 


Nat had teregraphed his mother telling of the 
death of her brother, but as yet had received no 
answer. Samuel Butler had obtained his money, 
became lawful proprietor of the Shawville & Lost 
River Mine, which he had purchased from young 
Henderson, and was now forging ahead with great 
success. The young boy had become wealthy, and 
though he was not a multi-millionaire, by no means, 
he felt assured that the little wallet would keep 
him and his mother the rest of their days. 

Morning dawned with everything as solemn as if 
dead. Not even a branch of the pine quivered, nor 
was there a ripple on the nearby pool. The distant 
mountains flung off their black cloaks and displayed 
to the world the cloth of snow, which glittered 
brightly beneath the tender rays of a newly-born 
sun. The snow had fallen quite heavily that night, 
lobbing the peak of its browness, but, however 
there was something more novel hidden amid the 
shrubbery of the mountain. Some five hundred 
feet up that gradual sloping hillside, nestled the 
shacks of Butler’s mining camp. Far to the right, 
nearly too far for the naked eye to behold, lay a 
tiny gray-colored cabin, from which dainty volumes 
of smoke arose. Through the field glass, the cabin 
was not rudely built, as one would expect. Lay- 
ing aside the glass and winding among the bushes 
up the Cedar Trail one soon found himself right 
before the little cabin door. Just then emerging 
from a thicket of underbrush came Ray Boswell, 


7S 


niic Hero Of The IVest/’ 


and his beautiful wife. Up the few steps they 
sprang, and without rapping on the door, entered. 

The occupants of the cabin were not at all sur- 
prised at the sudden arrival of these individuals, 
for already Mr. and Mrs. Henderson had waited 
too long. 

Old boy.” broke in Nat, as he picked up the suit 
cases, and started for the door. “You know that lit- 
tle, old stage won’t wait for us. We've got to move, 
and that's all there is to it.” 

In an hour, the newly-weds were sitting in some 
low-backed chairs in the postofihee, awaiting the ar- 
rival of the stage, which was due at any time. The 
same little crowd was gathered again in front of 
the office, swinging hither and thither, in search of 
gossip. Some were, however, expecting letters 
from folks in the outside world; a few looking-for 
friends and relatives among the passengers. 

“Here she comes!” announced someone, and all 
eyes were turned to see the coach come rattling 
down the main street. Two cowboys mounted on 
bronches, rode alongside the vehicle. They were 
dark, ugly-looking fellow; men who had been 
hardened by the desert's cunning ways. The pilot 
of the stage was a stranger in that vicinity, hav- 
ing hailed from some distant city in the East. He 
had taken up his new work as stage pilot just after 
the mysterious disappearance of Jerry Munson. 

“I have learned that ye’re off for the East, son,” 
broke in Abe Carington, as the big coach pulled out 


*^rhe Hero Of The West.” 


79 


of White Rock. “Where's yer stopping place?" 

“1 presume it'll be Kelso, Idaho, as we have 
friends there,” returned Nat, who had seated him- 
self beside the driver. 

“Wall, that's fine,” was the return. “I know 
they're danged sorry to see yer leave this place.” 

Nothing more of any importance was said be- 
tween them for some considerable time now, the 
man being too taken up with the handling of the 
horses and brakes. The cowboys, who had accom- 
])anied the old stage on its previous trips, had now 
been dismissed, as there were no dangerous places 
to be encountered. 

After winding the hard pike for several miles, the 
outfit halted — halted on the ridge overlooking the 
Mesa. Already they felt the challenge — the warn- 
ing, the lure, the haughtiness — that strange entice- 
ment which is an intense desire and an unsolable 
mystery to all mankind. Abe hated it, loved it, but 
yet he feared it. Often as he had entered the land 
— the land of heat and lonliness — his very heart had 
3 ^earned to learn the desert’s secret— the secret of 
its lost decades. 

“I have many times wondered, if God has actu- 
ally forgotten this little spot on the globe,” mur- 
mured Abe to Nat, while studying the space before 
him. “See,” pointing back over his shoulder, 
“there are the green pastures, where man and horse 
makes gluttens of themselves; while here before us. 


80 


^^The Hero Of The WestT 


a vision of the devil himself greets us. Isn’t it a 
mystery?” 

Then, heedless of the desert’s steadfast warning, 
he unfastened the brakes, and again they were on 
their way plodding through sandy trails. 

For two days they did suffer; checking off the 
hours which faced them. They were bathed in 
heat; the condition of thirst becoming so terrible 
that it was but the normal condition. Nat no longer 
occupied the seat beside the driver, for the terrible 
heat of the sun had seemed to strike him with un- 
bearable force. 

During the greater portion of their journey, they 
experienced severe sand storms, which twirled their 
coach unnoticeably in an entirely different direction. 
Although this was soon discovered by Abe, he 
found that they were at least a day’s journey in the 
wrong direction,, and of course, this meant more or 
less shortening of rations. 

‘'Good God, man,” yelled Nat up to the driver, 
‘Ts there no end to this place?” 

Nat, receiving no reply, became suspicious, and 
realizing for the first time the horror of the desert, 
yelled again at the top of his lungs. Still there 
came no response. He opened the door and glanc- 
ed upward, and to his eyes, he brought the scene of 
a real tragedy. On the scorched leather seat lay 
the body, the head and shoulders resting in a 
cramped position on the several bundles which lay 
on the roof at his rear. He was dead ! 


The Hero Of The West,” 


81 


“He's dead! — The man’s dead!” repeated the 
boy, hysterically. 

And so — desperate with fear, with excitement, 
Nat flung open the door, and grasping the iron 
bracings that bordered the roof, pulled himself up 
in Western fashion. With a mighty crash of 
brakes the steady-loping team stopped. Ray and 
the two girls sprang from the coach, looked up- 
ward, and there saw Nat working desperately over 
the man’s body in anticipation of discovering some 
sign of life. 

“No use, Ray,” quivered the boy. “He’s dead.” 

The situation was indeed a dreadful one, not 
suited for the weak-minded, or those wrist-watch 
boys from the East. There they were, out in the 
open sea, the storm lashing hard against them. 
Should they turn — turn where ? they did not know ; 
direction was naught to them there. How long had 
they traveled without a guide? How were they to 
decide their direction? Questions of these kind 
sprang before them driving them nearly hysterical. 
In many a peril had Nat and Ray been involved, 
but never one more straining to the nerves than 
this one; a real catastrophe! 

An hour later, as the party — still effected by the 
sudden death of the pilot— stood in the falling 
twilight, looking down upon the little grave, a 
chorus of wild, mellow howls broke the stillness. It 
was the evening call — the call of the coyote. 


82 


‘^The Hero Of The West/^ 


The upper rim was all that was left of that red 
sun, which once again was sinking below that 
ghastly stretch of sand. Around the travelers on 
every side lay the cooling desert under its calm sea 
of dainty colors, its veils of softly tinted vapor. 
Truly, they felt alone! Alone! Alone! 

“Water! Water!'’ 

Ray shouted the exclamation of joy; for he had 
sighted one of those precious water holes. With- 
out the least hesitation, he grasped the canteen 
which had lain beside him, and jumped befor the 
coach had halted. Nat tightened the brakes, and 
in a few seconds the team stood beside the water, 
too, lapping it with overwhelming eagerness, while 
the boys and their wives were contentedly sipping 
from the well-filled canteens. 

“I calculate it ain’t much use to continue our 
traveling to-night; for the horse sense we’ve got, 
I’m sure won’t bring us to where we want to go, so 
let’s camp for the night right here.” 

A second invitation was absolutely unnecessary. 
So, this they did and within an hour after the sun 
had dipped, their camp fire was the only artificial 
light on that expanse. The flicker of their light 
could be seen by the prowling coyote, who, though 
starving, never announced his presence save by the 
prolonged, weired cry. The peculiar wagon, a 
group of squatting figures, a bunch of stooping 
horses, were squarely within the blurred circle of 
light. 


n^he Hero Of The Westr 


83 


“I guess our Master means for us to remain here 
in this forsaken place. We’ve been in the desert for 
five days now with no food supply save the tiny bit 
for ourselves,” and Nat puffed vigorously at his 
pipe. The horses haven’t had a mouthful of green 
grass since we left Dewitt Hart Basin, some days 
past. Probably, there may be some fodder in that 
sack yonder, but Pm telling you that that’s going 
to be served very sparsely, too, for it’ll only last for 
a meal or two.” 

“It is rather strange that this journey is so 
lenghty. Carnington just the other day told us 
that his trips never exceeded two days, and here 
we’ve been a-drifting for five days, as near as I can 
reckon.” Ray returned, dejectedly. 

The speaker dropped his head slightly, peering 
into the dancing fire. 

“I fear we shall never get out of this place,” sob- 
bed Mrs. Henderson. “And in the first place, I don't 
see why we had to choose the desert’s trail. We 
could have followed the south fork of the Owyhee 
River just as easy, and at the same time we would 
have escaped our present situation, which is all but 
pleasant.” 

“That is all true, too, Mrs. Henderson,” began 
Ray, glancing toward Nat’s wife, “but that region 
shelters a great number of outlaws, who, more than 
once has robbed stages. It was on this very trail 
that Jerry Munson met his death some months 
ago.” 


84 


^^Thc Hero Of The WestT 


Nat had left the group and was now ascending 
the stage coach which stood a little ways off. The 
recollection of having seen some valuable papers 
])ack on the vehicle had just occurred to him, and 
without disturbing the others, he had left in search 
of them. 

In a few moments he returned, and seating him- 
self besides the fire, he opened them and read to 
those who sat around him : 

“ITe Buzzard Trail, like many desert 
trails, has its mysterious ways. The tender- 
foot knows them not; so excluding all details, 

I will endeavor to point out its direct course. 

By night, from White Rock to Mountain City, 
one may reach his destination by following the 
lighted path made by the brilliant stars of the 
dipper s handle. By day, ’tis best to have a 
guide, for the many trips I've made, I have 
not, as yet, discovered any way of determining 
save by the sun and distance. Briefly, as I 
assured, my method of determining direction 
has been told, and whosoever reads these lines, 

I hope that the information will prove as useful 
to them as it did to me when first I learned the 
desert. 

; The Pilot.” 

Nat lifted his head, and glanc'ed at the interest- 
ing listeners, saying: “That news Seems exceeding- 
ly beneficial in our predicament, does' it not? So it 


85 


^‘The Hero Of The West/' 


occures to me at any rate.” Then he again consult- 
ed the paper. 

'‘Come along, Ray ; let’s hitch up the horses to the 
wagon, and turn its tongue in the direction toward 
w hich this note indicates, and by morning I’m sure 
our route will be definite.” 

V'oung Henderson carefully folded the paper, de- 
posited it in his shirt pocket, and in a short time 
was up, attending to the business which, he, himself, 
had suggested should be executed. Soon, howev- 
er, one could plainly hear the creaking wagon as it 
was righted; the voices of the boys as they toiled 
away in the darkness, and the clinking of the 
horses’ as they swayed to and fro. All this the girls 
heard, who still remained before the fire, chatting 
solemnly about the various things which were hap- 
])cning. 

Fifteen miiiutes later, the boys had completed 
their task, unharnessed the beasts, and were now’ 
streached as comfortably as could be expected on 
an old horse blanket, greeting the moment that 
should bring sleep to their weary, disheartend 
]x)dies. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

The Arrival of the Boys. 

The sun was setting fast in the Western sky; 
night veils w^ere falling. In the great living room 
of a cabin in Idaho’s wildreness, sat Greely and 


86 


“77/r Hero Of The West” 


Fulton, the latter’s face bright and ingenuous with 
happiness. His eyes were resting on a sheet of pa- 
per which he had in his hands before the light of a 
tiny, flickering lamp. Undoubtedly, the news was 
of the best kind, for as he read, “found great 
wealth out here. Will arrive in Kelso on the six- 
ten train Friday evening, November fifth. Be pre- 
])ared to greet our wives,” his expression grew even 
brighter. 

“Greely! What splendid news!” 

Soon the reader’s companion learned of the good 
news, and with a sudden bound, he grasped Ful- 
ton’s shoulders, shouting an exclamation of joy. 

The next day, Friday, a beautiful autumn-like 
day, Greely and Fulton started for the little depot 
ten miles from where they lived. Four extra horses 
were taken along for the purpose of supplying the 
newcommers. 

It was not a great while after they arrived that 
the mighty train pulled in, puflfing hard. Then it 
stopped for the first time since its starting at Para- 
dise Valley, a little Western town beyond Black 
Ridge Peak. The first to alight were the people 
from White Rock. Though the boys had not been 
in Kelso for some time, everything had not chang- 
ed. They remembered the general store and saloon 
which stood at the corner of the town facing a 
great plain A bleached and faded sign read “The 
Maiden.” The letters now seemed to be shrinking 
from public gaze, seemingly ashamed of them- 
selves. 


'^The Hero Of The West.” 


87 


Liquor was still to be obtained at the store, how- 
ever. Men were of the same nature, confident, and 
hard-hearted, burdened the heavy solitude of that 
wilderness. They lounged about the place, gossip- 
ing gaily of the great opportunities in the North 
Country, and the great East. Then his eyes lower- 
ered upon those worn, awkward hands. Could they 
do the work of the East, the dainty office job? Sure- 
ly they could do the work of the famous North 
Country, with its jobs of “work or starve;” the 
jobs where hand and not mind made food. 

As the new arrivals passed the place, the men 
gave them a hearty welcome, asking unaccountable 
questions. 

“Wall, sir,” broke in one old man, “Yer has ther 
dangedest ginger of any lad Fve ever seen. I’ll tell 
yer thet, and boy, don’t be ashamed of it, either.” 

“Thank ye, Seth,” returned Nat, politely, “but 
swallow those compliments.” 

It was nigh onto seven before our friends reign- 
ed round a bend in the road, bound for the little 
cabin in the dell. Nearly all the way home they 
rode in groups of twos, the ponies even then crowd- 
ing too closely. Tiny lizards of the stones scur- 
ried away from either side of the trail. One af- 
ter the other a little group of mountain quail trip- 
ped by. The cunning coyote watched from his 
cave, with eyes and smell on the alert. Without the 
least doubt it was the most picturesque region in all 
the wide universe, always unexcelled in its grand- 


88 


^‘The Hero Of The West.” 


eur , ruggedness and life-giving qualities. The 
stream by the wayside chattered as they passed, and 
the pine seemed to answer from its mansions on 
the hillside. 

The atmosphere was invigorating, so much so 
chat it seemed to bring an optimistic view point of 
seeing things. As they came upon a high mound, 
they turned in the direction from whence they came, 
and far away in the distance, two — three — four 
miles, lay that ever beautiful valley of the Ten 
Sisters, with its climbing pines, laughing water- 
falls and green meadows. Surely no place in the 
wide world seemed more inviting to their fancies. 

The sun dipped, and the veil of evening came. 
Shadows fell fast and thick as a fog. 

Up a steep trail they went, the horses clambering 
hard beneath their heavy weight. Ten minutes 
later we find them at the summit silhouetted in 
striking figures against the orange tint of a full 
moon. 

“Well,*’ broke in Nat, addressing the whole 
group, “I guess we’ve had our ups and downs, and 
fighting of all kinds, but now I know the star of 
health, wealth and prosperity shines brighter than 
ever before us.” 

“And,” drawled out Fulton, happily, “and, maybe 
it would make you feel a grain happier if I should 
tell you that your mother arrived from the East 
last evening, and is now preparing the dandiest 


^^The Hero Of The West” 89 


supper you ever ate.” 

“Whow! That’s great news! Hooray for all 
the gods, heroes, and rattlesnakes of this bloomin’ 
country!” cried Nat, excitedly. 

‘‘And, maybe, Nathan, if I should tell you that 
you are the hero of the far stretching West, it 
would make you feel normal again,” Mrs. Hender- 
son broke in, with a bit of laughter in her twink- 
ling eye. 

END. 



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